


Under My Skin

by Vakaara



Series: Under My Skin [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Background GoChi, Background VegeBul, Enemies to Lovers, Goku can be pretty dense, Hand Jobs, Hypnosis, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining but not exactly pining but there’s a lot of tension and wishful thinking happening there, Slow Burn, Vegeta has some bad memories, canon character death, fusion memories, kakavege week, temporarily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24771343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vakaara/pseuds/Vakaara
Summary: After eight years dead, Goku returns to Earth for one day at the Tenkaichi Budokai tournament. He left unfinished business between himself and Vegeta when he died. Vegeta isn’t happy about it.
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: Under My Skin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735372
Comments: 81
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to CapsuleCrisis for beta reading!

Dabura left abruptly. Too amused for anything good. Tension spread through Goku’s chest. “He said he’s found a fighter.” 

Vegeta screamed, and the ground fell away beneath Goku.

Gohan and Supreme Kai were yelling, a cacophony trying to drag Vegeta back. Goku was frozen. How could he find the right words?

Vegeta screamed again, head thrown back, power exploding. He was glorious. He was terrifying. Goku stared at the man he’d thought was his friend, taking in the roiling miasma of ki, Vegeta’s lithe form outlined tightly by his dark battlesuit. The urge to grip Vegeta’s shoulders and shake him rose uselessly through Goku.

“Vegeta!” It was too late, Goku knew, but his voice tore out anyway. 

The Majin mark settled on Vegeta’s head, and Vegeta grinned insanely up at them. He looked free. 

Goku wanted to go back, to that time before he’d died, and wrap himself around his friend. To anchor him more firmly. 

The scenery changed around them. Goku’s stomach twisted. Babidi had dropped them back at the tournament. Vegeta could do too much damage here, too quickly. 

“Steal their energy!” Babidi’s command rang out, and Goku braced himself.

“Shut up! I’m only after Kakarot!” 

Vegeta was still in there. It was Goku he wanted to fight. Goku stared at Vegeta, his dark lined eyes and manic energy, and wanted to take him up on it. The rematch they’d never managed to have. 

Vegeta raised his palm, sneering at Goku, ready to fire off a ki blast that would damage Goku and gather energy for Buu’s resurrection. 

“You idiot!” Goku narrowly avoided the ki blast, then went cold as it tore through the stands behind him. Hundreds of tiny human ki signatures winked out. 

No. 

Goku’s skin was clammy. “Vegeta!” 

Vegeta smirked back at him, not looking the slightest bit sorry. Goku wanted to hate him for it. 

“Now, Kakarot… Fight me. Unless you want to add more corpses to the pile, that is.”

That single mindedness. Vegeta’s insistence, before they left the tournament chasing Babidi, that Goku finish their match first. 

“Vegeta, did you… did you let Babidi control you on purpose?”

Instead of answering, Vegeta raised a fist full of ki, face still twisted into a cruel sneer, and fired the blast directly into the crowd. 

No. Goku clenched his teeth, felt rage shudder through him. How could Vegeta retain so much of himself, his own desires and grudges, yet nothing resembling morals? He distantly noted that Vegeta’s blast had narrowly avoided where their friends and family stood. 

“Vegeta… you surrendered to Babidi’s spell on purpose to make me fight. Am I right?”

“If I hadn’t, I’d never get to fight you. After today you’re leaving this world forever.”

Gohan and Supreme Kai were yelling again. Goku ignored them.

Vegeta was yelling too, in response. “He surpassed me. Once he even saved my life. I can’t stand it! I can’t!” 

Was Vegeta remembering that first fight? Goku remembered how absolute his own loss had been. He hadn’t even been able to lift a finger after Vegeta was through with him. 

He’d been so damned impressive. It had sent electricity through Goku’s veins, to be fighting someone so strong, even as the stakes were everything.

Excitement thrummed through him, nothing to do with judgement. He’d wanted a rematch even then. 

“Babidi, take us somewhere where there’s no people! Then I’ll fight him!” Goku would get them away, at least, before Vegeta could show this evil side of himself to their friends and family any further.

If Goku could keep Vegeta’s rage focused on himself, maybe there would be a slim chance to get Vegeta back afterwards.

It didn’t feel bad, either. To be the sole focus of Vegeta’s attention. 

Something dark inside Goku was thrilled. He’d be fighting Vegeta for real, not as a friendly match. This was a true rematch, their first deadly battle since the day they met. The excitement, the challenge, pulled at him. 

Supreme Kai tried to stop them leaving, and Goku refused. Something complicated happened to Vegeta’s face. Babidi teleported them back to a wasteland. 

Vegeta’s face twisted further as he refused Babidi’s order to kill the Supreme Kai, fighting off the magic with will power and pride alone. It clearly cost Vegeta, leaving him panting, dark rimmed eyes narrowed with focus. 

“Vegeta, you wanted to fight me that much?” Goku’s stomach was hot. 

Supreme Kai and Gohan left, to stop Babidi and save the universe.

Goku and Vegeta were alone. He had to keep enough of his focus to prevent his energy being used to wake Buu. The wind blew their hair, Super Saiyan gold, and Goku felt thirsty. To be facing Vegeta again, in a serious battle. He’d longed for this.

But he wasn’t supposed to have it, right now. He was supposed to have perspective. 

Vegeta had thrown away his perspective. Maybe he’d never held it in the first place. He’d already been reluctant to join them in stopping Babidi.

 _”What about our battle, Kakarot?”_

Goku had underestimated how far Vegeta would go to get what he wanted. 

They faced each other now. Goku’s blood sang for the challenge, and he grit his teeth. He couldn’t let Buu get too much of his energy.

He so desperately wanted to fight Vegeta. To punch some sense back into him. Pin him down and demand to know what the hell he’d been thinking. Thighs against hips, pinned hands over head. 

Goku licked his lips. 

The sparks of Super Saiyan two crackled around them both as they powered up. Should he use three? No, he’d shorten his time on earth if he did that.

He wanted more time. He wanted to fight Vegeta. 

“I’ll kill you!” Vegeta snarled, a parody of his old self, launching toward Goku with a starving grin. 

Goku barely blocked his kick, his punch, jumped back. Returned his own volley, nothing landing. Vegeta blocked every hit. This was fun. The test of strength, the crackle of energy, the rush of blood through his veins. Him and Vegeta, moving as one.

They paused, measuring, both grinning. He shouldn’t be enjoying this.

He couldn’t imagine not enjoying this. 

Vegeta kicked at Goku’s head and Goku blocked, following with a knee to Vegeta’s stomach. It connected, knocking Vegeta back, but he instantly recovered and punched Goku in the face. Goku returned a punch of his own, catching Vegeta across the left cheek and drawing blood. Vegeta grinned back, already trying to kick Goku in the rib cage. 

So much power. Hard as he’d trained in the other world, there’d be no one who matched him so well as Vegeta. 

But they weren’t here to play. 

Goku drew on another level of kaioken. Faster than before, Goku slipped behind Vegeta, locked his elbow around Vegeta’s neck. Vegeta snarled, animal, trying to shake Goku off.

“Listen to me, Vegeta!” This was so familiar, from their spars in the Room of Spirit and Time. Vegeta’s ki felt different under Babidi’s control, but his scent was the same. It made Goku’s skin hot. He wanted to set his lips to Vegeta’s bare neck, taste him. 

“I want to fight you,” so very true, “but we’re doing too much damage like this! We can’t risk Buu waking up!”

Vegeta drove an elbow into Goku’s stomach, but Goku didn’t loosen his grip on Vegeta’s throat. 

“I promise, we’ll settle this after,” he wanted to be able to keep that promise, the idea of going back to the other world without settling this left him feeling empty, “but we have to save Earth first!”

Vegeta raised a hand to Goku’s right arm, around his neck. Pain lanced through Goku’s right bicep, weakening his grip. Vegeta tore free and punched Goku in the face. Goku felt his nose crack. His balance was off, his right arm hanging useless at his side. He couldn’t take his eyes off Vegeta right now to figure out how bad the damage was, but it felt serious. 

Whatever that technique was, it was more than Vegeta had ever thrown at Goku during their time in the Room, even as much as he’d claimed he wanted to best Goku. 

“I don’t give a shit about the Earth,” Vegeta spat, eyes wild, “it’s nothing to me.”

“That’s not true, Vegeta,” god, but Goku wanted it not to be true, “this is your home now, too. Your family’s home.”

Vegeta blazed forward and punched Goku into a cliff. Goku bit his lip as his injured shoulder flared, then cried out anyway as bands of pain flared around both ankles and wrists. Vegeta had pinned him with ki, somehow shaped into rings. 

“Don’t tell me what to feel, Kakarot,” Vegeta was in his face, furious, “you have no fucking right.” 

“Dammit, Vegeta, I know we haven’t seen each other in a while,” Goku’s head jerked to the side as Vegeta slapped him, hard. Narrowing his eyes against the sting, Goku continued, “but I know you’re better than this!”

Vegeta froze, hand still raised to deliver another slap. Goku grabbed a breath and faced him, pressing on. 

“I saw it, in the Room of Spirit and Time,” he saw Vegeta jolt as if Goku had delivered his own slap, “you’re not a monster, Vegeta, and there’s no reason for you to keep playing one on Earth!”

He’d seen, back then. How many careful layers Vegeta had covered himself in. Vegeta had let him inch closer. 

Something in him ached with loss. Things his death had removed his chance to learn. 

Vegeta was shaking, Goku realized. Hands balled into fists, ki still crackling with the electricity of Super Saiyan two, he was trembling as he floated in the air. Why?

“Vegeta, please.” Come back, Goku didn’t add. 

“Shut up!” Vegeta’s face darkened, something crazy lighting his eyes. “That’s gone, now! Babidi was the perfect tool to remove those disgustingly weak _feelings_.” 

“You’re wrong, Vegeta,” Goku prayed that his observation back at the tournament grounds had been correct, “he couldn’t take away your pride, and he couldn’t take away your love for your family.” 

Vegeta backhanded him across the face, this time. Goku tasted blood. His right shoulder was screaming under his weight where he hung. 

Enough. Goku snarled, flared his ki, dragged half the cliff with him. The ki rings were only as strong as what they were attached to. Genius though he could be, Vegeta hadn’t figured that one out, and his eyes widened with surprise before Goku punched him in the face with the nice big chunk of rock still attached to his left first. The ki rings vanished. 

It didn’t give Vegeta pause for long. They were moving again, a blur of kicks and punches, many connecting. Goku was bleeding freely from more than just his shoulder, and Vegeta had taken a lot of damage too.

They clashed together, Goku catching Vegeta’s right hand in his left. He dodged Vegeta’s left fist, unable to block with his useless right arm, and used his hold on Vegeta to drag him off balance, launching a kick at Vegeta’s head. Vegeta blocked Goku’s leg with his left arm, still holding Goku’s other hand, then fired off a ki blast from his left palm. Goku’s chest burned, most of his shirt disintegrating. His breathing hitched with pain, and Vegeta used that moment to slam Goku to the ground, pinning him with his left arm against Goku’s neck and his right hand still immobilizing Goku’s left. Vegeta’s knees bracketed Goku’s hips, pinning his legs.

For a moment they paused, panting, nose to nose. Goku stared into Vegeta’s super saiyan blue eyes, wishing he could will him back to normal. 

He was so close. 

In the distance, a strange and unnerving energy unfolded. 

“Vegeta. That’s Buu. We have to go and help them.” That energy felt wrong. Horror crawled up Goku’s throat. Gohan was over there, and Gohan wasn’t even as strong as he’d been when he fought Cell. Vegeta’s observation when Gohan fought Dabura had been right. 

“I don’t care,” Vegeta’s voice sounded raw, “I don’t care! The entire fucking point of this was to stop being so _soft_! To stop fucking _caring_!”

“Then you failed.” If Goku’s arms had been free, he’d probably have been making a suicidal attempt to hug Vegeta. Vegeta’s voice just sounded that bad. “You still care, Vegeta.”

Vegeta snarled, furious denial. Goku held his gaze and wondered if he was imagining the brightness in Vegeta’s eyes. 

“I hate you.” Vegeta’s voice was rough. “I hate you in particular, Kakarot!”

“Okay.” It hurt, but it was nothing new. “Hate me if you have to, Vegeta, but don’t throw away your family for it.” Or mine, Goku didn’t add. 

Vegeta stared at him, breathing hard. Far away, Buu’s ki flared, growing horrifyingly large. This was far too much for anyone other than them to handle. 

Goku could probably beat it with Super Saiyan three. But if he used that against Vegeta now, he’d have to render Vegeta completely immobile before Vegeta would let him leave to fight Buu. He hated the idea of leaving Vegeta out here defenseless like that. 

He needed Vegeta back on his side, dammit, even if Vegeta hated him.

“Fine.” Vegeta’s voice had leveled, the manic edge gone. Relief flooded Goku. Was he imagining things? “We’ll fight him together then, Kakarot.” 

“Vegeta!” Goku’s face fell into a smile. 

Vegeta released his hold on Goku, standing. “Give me a senzu bean first, we’ve both used up a lot of ki.”

“Sure!” Goku turned, fumbling at his belt for the beans. Luckily they hadn’t been stored in his destroyed shirt. 

Everything would be fine, now. They’d fight Buu together. It wouldn’t be quite as satisfying as finishing their spar, but it would still make his blood sing. The thrill of fighting alongside Vegeta as an ally, at last. 

A foot scuffed the ground next to Goku as Vegeta moved closer, then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goku’s right shoulder was done in by a ki blade. He couldn’t see what happened because of the angles.  
> The dialogue before they start fighting is lifted almost word for word from one of the official manga translations. They really just sound that gay.


	2. Chapter 2

Goku’s head hurt. His right shoulder throbbed dully with pain, and something sharp was digging into his cheek.

Vegeta’s ki was gone. 

Goku jolted upright, adrenaline surging. Buu. Extending his senses, Goku could still sense Buu’s unnerving ki. Buu had moved from where he was before, but didn’t seem any weaker. 

Where was Vegeta? 

Combing through the flickers of ki across the planet, Goku shivered. He had a really bad feeling about this. Vegeta’s ki was nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t sense Gohan, either. Had Buu killed them? 

There! Not Gohan, not Vegeta, but Krillin and Piccolo’s ki was back. They were no longer frozen as stone statues. Hopefully they’d know what had happened. Two fingers to his forehead, Goku teleported to them. 

They were on the lookout, of all places. 

“Goku!” Krillin rushed towards him, tears in his eyes, “you’re alive! I mean, you know!”

“Yeah.” Goku smiled, feeling an unexpected ache at the reminder of how little time he had back on earth. Seeing everyone again, meeting Goten for the first time, it had reminded him how much he was missing. 

Seeing Vegeta again had felt complicated, too. 

“Vegeta’s dead,” Piccolo cut right to the point, “Gohan, too.”

Goku jolted. “Both of them.” 

“Buu was just too powerful.” Piccolo looked down and to the side, face tight. 

Buu was still out there. Goku had less than 24 hours left on Earth to try to help stop him. 

He’d messed up. Fists clenching, Goku gritted his teeth. If he’d used Super Saiyan three right off the bat, he probably could have knocked Vegeta out before he took any damage himself. Could have stopped Buu from rising at all. 

But he’d wanted to fight Vegeta. He’d wanted to respect Vegeta’s wish, his desire to fight Goku so strong that he’d yielded to Babidi’s control for a chance to do it. Goku had wanted another chance to fight the man he’d come to know in the Room of Spirit and Time. 

He’d been happy, in a twisted way, that Vegeta was focused so completely on him. 

Even then, he’d messed up. He’d underestimated Vegeta’s stubbornness and pride again. And this time, it really had gotten Vegeta killed. 

Gohan. 

“How?” Goku looked back up at Piccolo. The details would hurt, but not knowing would eat him alive. Or, you know. 

“I don’t know about Gohan,” Piccolo’s voice was rough with grief, “his ki was already gone when we returned from stone. But as for Vegeta,” Piccolo paused, face twisting. “Vegeta didn’t die because he lost. He made a choice.”

“A choice.” The world lurched.

“Buu’s regeneration is unparalleled, far beyond what Cell was capable of,” Piccolo swallowed hard before continuing, “Vegeta saw that, and intended to destroy Buu completely in one sweep. The only way to generate that much power was to expend everything he had in one burst.”

He’d blown himself up. Goku wondered if it was visibly swaying on his feet right now, or if it just felt like it. 

You idiot, he wished he could tell Vegeta. You stubborn, prideful fool, _you didn’t have to do that_.

“Ever the warrior,” Piccolo continued, “before he died, Vegeta asked after you. If he’d be able to spar with you in the afterlife.”

“Oh,” relief flooded Goku, a guilty silver lining, “so then, after Buu is taken care of and I go back-“

“No.” Piccolo cut him off, grim. “Vegeta was not a good person. He will not be given the option to keep his body and train in the afterlife. His soul will be wiped clean of memories, and reincarnated.” 

That couldn’t be right. All that pride, all that power, all that messiness and conflict that made up Vegeta, surely that couldn’t be wiped away so easily?

Piccolo dropped a hand onto Goku’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s a lot of bad news at once.”

“I was just thinking,” Goku’s voice sounded weak, “that it was such a waste.” 

The same thing he’d thought the first time he fought Vegeta, when he’d seen Vegeta’s life about to snuff out. What a waste, that all that power, that potential, that complexity, would be gone. 

“Indeed. The afterlife’s rules are strict, and do not always seem fair.”

“It really doesn’t seem fair,” Krillin was still standing with them, head lowered also, “especially after he went out like that.” 

“It will not be enough.” Piccolo was grim. “His life was lived too long on the other side of the scales.”

It had just been a matter of time, then. The good in Vegeta that Goku had always wanted to be right about really was there. He just hadn’t had enough time to claw his way to it, before Buu’s appearance had cut that short. For that, his soul would be condemned to oblivion. 

Goku’s eyes stung. He hadn’t realized, until that moment, how temporary his own death had felt. How much he’d counted on seeing everyone again, when it was their time. 

On getting his favorite sparring partner back.


	3. Chapter 3

Wind whipped through Vegeta’s hair, pressing it sideways. He watched waves pull and crash against the base of the cliff where he sat. The water drew back, dark, then roared into a mist against the rocks. Rinse, repeat.

His head was full of memories that weren’t his. 

Crash, spray. The wind carried some of the droplets to him, this time. Salt against his face. 

_You idiot. You stubborn, prideful fool, you didn’t have to do that_.

Kakarot had said nothing of the sort when they met again. 

_”Vegeta! Boy, am I glad to see you!”_

Hard to imagine, really, that Kakarot could have mustered such anger towards Vegeta. Would hold such cruel words, even inside his own head. 

_I’m sorry, Vegeta._

_What a waste._

_Longing, an ache, for a scent, a smirk._

Vegeta drew up one knee and rested his forehead against it, closing his eyes. 

Did Kakarot hold so many of his own memories, in turn? 

_How does he always get under my skin._

He fisted one hand in his hair, gripping til the pain pulled him back out of his own head. 

If Kakarot had come away with as many fragments of Vegeta’s memories as Vegeta had gained from Kakarot, then Kakarot knew far more than Vegeta had ever wanted him to. Vegeta’s weaknesses, humiliations.

His desires.

Vegeta dropped to his back on the rocks, dragging both bare hands over his face. Waves boomed below, a welcome but insufficient distraction.

He’d felt so fucking empty, when Kakarot had died. It had faded, with time. With life. It wasn’t bad, his life on earth. There were a lot of good things in it. Things he’d never expected to have, in his past life. Couldn’t have chosen to have.

A family. His son who now clung to his waist at the slightest opportunity, relieved his father was no longer ashes in the wind, and his wife who said she didn’t know if she recognized him. 

Surrendering to Babidi’s control had gotten him what he’d wanted. A return to his old self, a person Bulma didn’t know. 

Even then, he’d felt the edges of that emptiness. The weakness he’d most wanted to throw aside had lingered even as he was stripped back to his core. His pride. His love, though he hated to call it that, for his family. 

His need for Kakarot. 

To defeat him, he’d insisted. That was what they’d left hanging, when Kakarot died. Their rematch forever unfinished. He’d thought, when he’d matched with Kakarot as his first opponent at the tournament, that he could finally ease that emptiness a little. Secure his pride. As much as a single day would allow. 

Kakarot had been oblivious. As if it had meant nothing to him. He’d flown off to save the world, trailing false promises about afterward. It had burned. 

_He’d wanted to fight Vegeta. He had wanted another chance to fight the man he’d come to know in the Room of Spirit and Time._

_“Vegeta, please.” Come back._

Vegeta bit his lip. Some of the memories he’d acquired, dripping in over the past several days, made his throat ache. Feelings that weren’t his bleeding through. 

Affection. Longing. Respect. Bewildering things. Was this truly how Kakarot saw him?

He’d wanted to clean up his own mess. To destroy Buu, in the knowledge that his own hotheadedness had let the monster loose. He hadn’t wanted Kakarot to pay for that mistake on his behalf. 

It hadn’t occurred to him to ask Kakarot’s opinion on the matter. 

The sun clouded, and he shivered, dropping his hands. It looked like the incoming clouds held rain. He’d have been warmer if he wore his armor, but that was in the closet he shared with Bulma. 

He hadn’t been into that room, lately. 

_Tears, hot on his skin. Arms around his neck. “I can’t do this right now, Vegeta. We’re too messy.”_

That memory, at least, would not be in Kakarot’s head. It was too recent. 

The first drops of rain spattered across his face, his bare shoulders, soaked through the thin cotton of his shirt and track pants. Black and grey spotted darker. 

Vegeta sat up again, watched the ocean. It was satisfyingly violent under the storm clouds. The wind braced him. 

Sudden warmth flickered into being at his back. Ki that seemed to reach out and soothe him from a distance.

Always, always getting under his skin.

“Hey, Vegeta.”

“Kakarot.” Vegeta kept his eyes on the waves. 

The blinding orange of Kakarot’s gi ruined the tone of the scenery. He sat down next to Vegeta, pressing their thighs together.

So fucking warm. 

“I missed you.” 

Vegeta froze. Thunder crashed in the distance. 

He whirled to Kakarot, grabbed a familiar handful of gi. 

“You have some fucking nerve, you bastard.” He was snarling, teeth bared in Kakarot’s face. “You’re the one who left!”

Kakarot’s half smile faded. He crumpled forward, over Vegeta’s hand near his neck. “I’m sorry.” 

What the fuck was Vegeta supposed to do with that?

_He’d missed so much._

Vegeta jolted at the foreign memory, releasing Kakarot’s gi. Rain plastered their hair to their heads, stuck their clothes to their skin. 

Water dripped from Kakarot’s bangs. Vegeta had a strange and pointless urge to brush them aside. 

He went ahead and did it. 

Even with the rain, Kakarot’s skin was warm where his bare fingers grazed it. He always felt so damn naked without his gloves. 

Kakarot caught his hand before Vegeta could pull it back, touch burning. Vegeta growled. That was too far. He narrowed his eyes at Kakarot, daring the bastard to do, to say, something soft and gentle. 

He’d punch him in the face for it. 

Kakarot held still, measuring him. His hair was back in his eyes already. He wasn’t smiling. Vegeta didn’t know what to do with that. Since when could Kakarot make a face so serious? 

“You don’t hate me,” Kakarot’s voice was hesitant, “but I understand why you’re mad at me.” 

Vegeta jerked backward, but Kakarot tightened his grip on Vegeta’s hand. Tied together. 

Fucking fusion. What had it told Kakarot? 

Vegeta had spent eight years trying to dismantle his own understanding faster than it built. He didn’t want Kakarot to see how little Vegeta truly hated him.

Worse, he didn’t want Kakarot to see all of him. Exposed.

“We never did finish our fight.” Kakarot’s smile was creeping back. “Can we do that, sometime?” 

Vegeta tugged his hand out of Kakarot’s slackened grip. He might actually have a chance, since Kakarot couldn’t use Super Saiyan three in a living body. That final fight with Buu had probably given Vegeta one hell of a zenkai boost. 

Their stand against Buu on the Kai’s world. Even after eight years, after he’d tried again to kill Kakarot through Babidi’s magic, they had fallen into perfect agreement. The same sense of Saiyan pride in battle. Vegeta almost regretted that he would never see Super Saiyan three again. It had been glorious. Enough to force recognition through him of Kakarot’s strength.

Those gentle memories invading his head even then. Absolute proof of Kakarot’s genuine goodness. Such wasted time, in those eight months of training. Vegeta had never needed to turn his suspicion on Kakarot. He could have taken that offered hand. 

Could he still?

“Yes.” In spite of himself, Vegeta smiled back. “Let’s do that. Tomorrow.” 

Kakarot’s smile broadened, splitting his face. He looked ridiculous, sitting there sopping wet and grinning his head off. 

Vegeta felt warmth spreading through his chest, and realized that the empty space he’d lived with for the past eight years was closing.

* * *

He landed on the balcony outside ‘his’ room. Pushing the door open, he hurled his sodden shirt onto the floor of the en-suite. Even the guest rooms at Capsule Corp had en-suites.

“Nice view in here.” 

Vegeta spun, shocked. Bulma sat on the bed, face stretched in a wan smile. Her ki and scent were so familiar he hadn’t registered her as an intruder. 

“God, Vegeta, you’re soaked.” Her smile faded as she took him in. “Are you trying for death by pneumonia next?”

That fucking needling again. “Yes,” Vegeta drawled as he stepped on the tiled bathroom floor and kicked off his pants, underwear, “I’m going for the full set, you see. Murder, suicide, and illness.”

“Don’t fucking joke, Vegeta.” Her voice shook. 

“You started it.” He grabbed a too large bathrobe, buried himself in it. “Why are you in here?”

“I was worried about you, you asshole.” 

She didn’t actually think he was going to catch pneumonia, did she? “Saiyans don’t catch cold as easily as you weak Earthlings.”

Bulma sighed. She looked exhausted, her usual vitality dimmed. Vegeta hated seeing her like this. 

He hated caring. 

“Vegeta, what in god’s name happened at that tournament? You’ve been weirder than ever since. You never did explain why you up and murdered a couple hundred people.”

What the fuck was he supposed to tell her? That he’d been so unable to cope with seeing Kakarot for that one single day, centering himself so deeply on their rematch, that he’d decided to throw away half his mind rather than miss their opportunity to fight?

Yes, that would go over brilliantly. She’d either completely fail, in her Earth way, to understand how much a fight meant, or she’d look right through him and understand why it had meant just that much.

Neither was appealing. 

He leaned against the bathroom doorway, hoping she’d give up and leave. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is this a Goku thing?”

How the hell did she do that? 

“For god’s sake,” she threw up her hands, “just fuck him and get it over with. Before one or both of you idiots get yourself killed again.”

Vegeta went hot with disbelief. How dare she?

“Fine, then, I will.” He bit the words off.

They stared at each other. Vegeta’s skin prickled under the bathrobe. He was covered practically neck to ankles, and he still felt stripped. 

Bulma pushed herself up off the bed, yanking at her lab coat. She balled her hands into fists and stomped towards the door, then paused there and glared at him. 

“You’re welcome, Vegeta.” She slammed the door behind her. 

Fuck. Vegeta took the two steps to the bed, then fell face first onto it. 

‘Messy’ was an understatement for what they were. 

He rolled onto his back. The robe gaped as the belt came loose. His skin felt too sensitive, still cold from the rain. 

How did Kakarot always get the ties on his gi to stay in place? Vegeta had found himself wondering, more than once, how easily they could be slipped undone. 

His skin tingled from something other than cold, now. Vegeta swallowed. 

_They paused, panting, nose to nose. Wishing. So close._

The longing bled through from Kakarot’s memory, and Vegeta bit his lip in frustration. What the fuck was he supposed to do with it? Kakarot was always so damn mild, no hint of such feelings surfacing. Nothing to act on.

Did Kakarot hold Vegeta’s memories of that moment, during their battle several days ago? Had he learned how distracted Vegeta had nearly been by the skin exposed when Kakarot’s shirt disintegrated, the knowledge of Kakarot’s bare chest while he lay pinned beneath Vegeta? 

How much Vegeta had wanted to shut Kakarot up by biting at the idiot’s lower lip. How much Vegeta had hated that desire, coiled but never gone, for eight fucking years. 

More than physical. Even under Babidi’s control, emotions supposed to be stripped down to nothing, he’d wanted to protect the people he cared about. It had been as core to him as his pride. 

Bulma. Trunks. Kakarot. 

Fuck. Their spar tomorrow was going to be an unmitigated disaster.


	4. Chapter 4

“Dad, look!”

“Wow, Goten, you got a big one” Goku grinned at Goten, who was holding a fish as big as he was. 

“Hee hee.” Goten’s grin covered his whole face. “I’ll get an even bigger one next!”

He was back in the water with a splash. Goku smiled, shaking his head. Sitting on the riverbank watching felt odd, but Goten had wanted to show off his skills, with Goku as the audience.

It still hadn’t really sunk in that he had a second son. A miniature of himself, who he’d never met until a few days ago.

_“What’re we gonna be able to learn from you?” Goten, filled with grief that was both his own and Trunks’._

Goten and Trunks had been so suspicious of him, when he’d first started teaching them fusion. They’d treated him like a stranger.

He had been. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” Gohan landed next to him with a smile. Goku smiled back, looking up. And up. He knew time had passed, but coming back to find Gohan was now the same height he was had been a surprise. 

“How’s scholaring?” Goku wasn’t completely clear on what being a scholar entailed, but it was definitely important to Gohan.

“Oh, pretty good.” Gohan sat down next to Goku on the riverbank. “I have exams coming up next week, but I think I’m ready for them.” 

Those were a test of some kind. “I bet you’ll win,” Goku offered.

Gohan chuckled. “Not quite the way exams work, dad, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Dad, look!!” Goten held up a fish about twice the size of himself, “I bet even Vegeta would be impressed with this one!”

Goku registered an unusual feeling, sort of like something buzzing inside him. Wait. Was he jealous?

“Did Vegeta take you fishing or something?” Okay, yeah, jealous. He would have liked to have been the person to teach at least one of his two sons to fish. 

“No, of course not,” Goten rolled his eyes and dropped the fish. “He doesn’t do stuff like that. But he comes to get Trunks sometimes, when we go fishing with Gohan.”

“Yeah,” Gohan smiled. “You’re right, that’s even bigger than the one he complimented you on last time.”

Vegeta was just going around complimenting fish catching skills now? 

“Trunks hasn’t come over in ages.” Goten’s smile had turned into a pout. 

“I’m sure you’ll see him again soon,” Gohan ruffled Goten’s hair, “it’s only been a few days since you saw him at the tournament.” 

Goten’s face became serious. He stared at Goku. “Dad, why didn’t you just use Super Saiyan three to beat the fat Buu before he killed Vegeta?”

What? Goku froze, staring back. There was accusation in Goten’s eyes. 

“Goten, hey,” Gohan sounded alarmed, “dad had his reasons.”

“I’m asking for ‘em.” Goten’s eyes narrowed. “Trunks was really scared. I didn’t like it.” 

Goku wondered if his son had the same kind of post-fusion memory fragments he’d been experiencing. Memories and feelings from someone else’s head. 

_Trunks, frantic. “Dad! Let us fight with you, you’ll be killed!” A hug, long overdue. His son confused. “Take care, Trunks.” The small body crumpling. “What are you doing?!” Kakarot’s boy, falling after. Their safety passed to Piccolo. Time to clean up his own mess._

Vegeta’s memories had been filtering in over the past couple days, including that one from before he’d destroyed himself to end Buu. Goten and Trunks had been caught up in that pain, while Goku lay unconscious. In that moment Vegeta had been resolved and calm, but that had vanished after. 

_”I sent myself into a cold oblivion, and I did it on a lie!”_

Goku wondered if he’d spend the rest of his new life apologizing for not bringing out Super Saiyan three earlier. 

Gohan cleared his throat, and Goku realized he’d been silent for too long. “Come on, Goten, let it go. We’re all okay now.”

“Hmph.” Goten grabbed both of his fish and left for the house, the excitement of showing off his skills to his newly returned father now lost. 

“Dad?” Gohan was hesitant. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Goku stretched his face into a smile. He was tired of making people worry. “You go ahead and help Goten clean those fish out.”

“Sure thing.” 

It must have been Gohan that taught Goten how to fish. Goku watched Gohan’s back recede towards the house. Gohan had been too young, before Goku’s first death, for Goku to teach him fishing. Sometime in the year that Goku had spent dead, the year he’d spent on Yardrat, Gohan had learned. He’d already been a pro at it by the time they started training for the androids. 

He’d spent more time gone than here. How had that happened?

* * *

Goku dutifully ran the dish towel over the wet plate ChiChi had handed him, set it in a stack with its companions once it was dry. 

This was his house. The smells were familiar, but he felt like he didn’t belong.

_Antiseptic sting in his nose. Raditz sobbing softly nearby. “Shut up. We’re Saiyan warriors. Don’t be so soft.” His words were empty. Space yawned outside, lonely with his planet gone from it._

Goku nearly dropped a plate. Secondhand and fleeting though the memory was, Goku’s chest felt clamped shut with pain. He’d lost something. There wasn’t anywhere he belonged, anymore. 

“Goku?” ChiChi peered at him, worried, “maybe you should go to bed early, tonight.” 

“Maybe so.” Goku tried to put on a normal expression. He’d worried ChiChi enough already. “Let me finish up here, first.” 

She smiled at him. “That’s very sweet of you, Goku.”

Was Vegeta getting fragments of Goku’s memories, too? The thought left Goku uneasy. He shifted the dried plates to the cupboard, grabbed the first of the bowls that ChiChi was now setting in the dish tray. 

He’d had a lot of thoughts about Vegeta in the Room of Spirit and Time. Plenty of those were thoughts he’d rather Vegeta didn’t see. 

_Skin flushed from a hot bath. A desire to touch. Heat pooling in his belly._

Goku felt his skin burn. Wait. What had that memory been?

“Are you sure you’re alright, Goku?” ChiChi was watching him with concern, “you look like you have a fever.”

Hah. “I’m fine, ChiChi, really.” 

“Well,” ChiChi frowned at him. “If you say so.” 

Goku wondered how Vegeta was doing. He hadn’t seen him since they’d parted ways at the lookout after defeating Buu. Blissfully alive. Goku bit back a smile, remembering his relief when Vegeta had come back with that second wish to bring back all the not bad guys. In the space of their fight with Buu, he’d gotten the time he needed to tip past the threshold.

Goku wondered where they stood now, after his eight dead years. It had felt so short, to Goku, but so much had changed on Earth while he’d’ been gone. 

_If he held very still, he might be able to keep himself from flying into a thousand brittle pieces._

The bowl fell from Goku’s suddenly numb fingers. Pain so intense it felt like his chest had hollowed out. 

“Goku!” ChiChi caught his shoulder. Goku didn’t have enough air to answer. “That’s it, bed right now, mister. You must still be worn out from saving the world again.”

“Guess so.” Goku’s voice was a whisper. ChiChi wasn’t wrong, exactly. 

He caught worried glances from Gohan and Goten, sitting quietly at the kitchen table studying. Goku let his hair hide most of his face as he turned so they wouldn’t be able to see he wasn’t smiling. 

The door clicked shut behind them as ChiChi pushed him into the bedroom, and Goku let himself slump to sit on the edge of the bed. ChiChi fussed around the room, gathering things from shelves in the closet and attached bathroom.

“Now, here,” her cool hand against his forehead, impersonal, “your temperature feels alright, but let me check properly.” A thermometer was shoved under his tongue. 

Goku wanted to ask her if she felt as weird these days as he did. Two people who had never expected to exist in the same space again. 

The thermometer beeped. ChiChi caught it and inspected the reading. “Well, you seem fine.” She patted his cheek, motherly. “Just get some rest.” 

She was back out the door before he finished voicing agreement. Goku rolled over onto the bed, sideways. Then he shivered and sat up again. That position felt like breaking apart. 

What the hell, Vegeta?

* * *

“Morning, Gohan,” Goku paused in the doorway, smiling as he watched his son shove things into his backpack.

“Morning, dad,” Gohan looked up at him, smile covering his whole face. 

It was good to be home. From the other world he’d checked in on everyone, from time to time. Watched Gohan get taller, start high school. Get a superhero costume. Seen Goten join the world, learn to crawl, learn to fly. Watched ChiChi, always standing tall, always there for their sons. He’d seen countless family dinners, wished he could sit and eat with them. 

In between, he’d trained. Time moved in strange bursts. Sometimes days would pass between his check-ins, sometimes years. 

He hadn’t checked in on Vegeta. It felt too intrusive, but also pointless. He’d been planning to challenge him to a rematch once Vegeta joined him in the afterlife. Why would he need to know, about what happened in between, when he couldn’t change it?

Goku stepped through the door, smiled at ChiChi when she glanced up from her whirlwind around the kitchen making breakfast. 

Piccolo’s words still chilled him. He would never have seen Vegeta in his afterlife. 

_He would never have a chance to prove his superiority. He would never spar with him again, or hear that stupid laugh. Never watch him push his hand infuriatingly through his hair, or smile and declare that their fight had been good. No more warm hands presuming to find his shoulders._

Goku’s chest hollowed out again, aching. His throat closed up in the wake of the secondhand memory.

“Dad?” Gohan was gripping his shoulder, eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Goku smiled back, pushing down the hollow feeling. No need to worry his family with this.

* * *

The log split into perfectly even parts, and Goku grinned at the results of his ki pressure. Chores were training. It was more fun that way. He pushed a little more with his ki, guiding, and the sliced wood fell neatly into a stack. Perfect. 

He wondered what sort of ki training Vegeta did. There must have been something, for him to have precise control to create ki rings like that. 

Goku swallowed hard, feeling strange. Vegeta had pinned him good a couple times, in that fight. They’d been so close. His nose full of Vegeta’s scent, surrounded by Vegeta’s ki. His senses full of Vegeta. 

_”Don’t tell me what to feel, Kakarot, you have no fucking right.”_

That hollowness. Goku had felt it a few times, through Vegeta’s memories. It was hard, through the brief flashes, to figure out who all that intensity was centered on.

What did it say about Goku that he hoped it was himself? 

He split another log into parts and watched them fall neatly. Who was he kidding? So much of that memory centered around fighting, around competing. If it was someone other than himself, he desperately wanted to meet them, this other warrior who could capture Vegeta’s focus so completely. 

What had Vegeta been up to, since their fight with Buu? Goku had hoped Vegeta would show up at his door and demand their rematch, but no such luck.

Maybe it was time for him to go to Vegeta.

* * *

Vegeta was out in the middle of nowhere. The ocean was dark, nearly black, beneath Goku as he flew.

_Dark wine, swirling in a glass. Light glinting, nearly black. “My dear Vegeta, you have one minute to explain yourself to me.” Sniggering behind him. He swallowed the urge to scream._

Terror chilled Goku, even as shame left him queasy. He steadied his flight, waiting for the emotional echoes to pass. 

Frieza. If Goku were to fight him again, he didn’t think he’d show mercy. 

Vegeta had told him that already, before Goku faced Frieza the first time. To show no mercy, to destroy the monster who had eliminated their entire race. Goku had set that history aside once he deemed Frieza no longer a threat to his new Super Saiyan form. 

He deserved Vegeta’s anger, for that. 

Clouds rolled, threatening rain. Would Vegeta move once it started? Goku frowned. He didn’t want to end up chasing him across half the planet. Vegeta hated instant transmission, but it would be fastest. Goku lifted two fingers to his head.

Rain soaked him. Blinking, Goku shook his hair away from his eyes. Vegeta was sitting at the edge of a cliff in front of him, already sodden, water laden hair dripping down his back. He didn’t look like he was planning to move any time soon. 

“Hey, Vegeta.”

“Kakarot.” Vegeta didn’t turn around.

Goku walked forwards, watching for a reaction and finding none. He sat down as close to Vegeta as he dared, close enough that he could feel Vegeta’s warmth against his leg. 

Vegeta didn’t pull away. Goku’s skin tingled pleasantly, and he fought the urge to drape an arm over Vegeta’s shoulders. 

“I missed you.” 

For a breath, Vegeta didn’t react to Goku’s statement. Thunder rolled over the ocean. 

Vegeta snapped. “You have some fucking nerve, you bastard,” his hand was fisted in Goku’s gi, teeth bared in Goku’s face, “you’re the one who left!”

Pieces of the puzzle that was Vegeta slipped through Goku’s head. He could see a picture emerging, but he wasn’t certain he was putting it together right.

The insistence on a rematch. His fury at Goku. That aching loss. 

Goku swallowed hard, curling inward. He’d left so much behind. At the very least, he’d skipped out on their rematch. At worst, he’d caused Vegeta pain, even if he didn’t fully understand how. 

He’d lied to Vegeta, when they did fight. If he’d told Vegeta about Super Saiyan three, Vegeta might have died one less time. 

“I’m sorry.” Goku wondered if he’d spoken loud enough for Vegeta to hear him.

The rain poured down, cold against Goku’s skin as it soaked through his gi. Vegeta was silent and still. Water tickled Goku’s nose where it dripped off his bangs. What did he say now?

A warm hand brushed his hair out of his face. 

Goku caught Vegeta’s hand before Vegeta could take it back, ignoring Vegeta’s warning growl. The cold of the rain was gone. Goku felt hot all over. He didn’t want to let go. 

Vegeta stared back, eyes narrowed. He let Goku keep his hand. 

Memories jumbled together. His own. Vegeta’s. 

_”You’re the one who left.”_

“You don’t hate me,” Goku spoke slowly, piecing it together as he went, “but I understand why you’re mad at me.” 

It all boiled down to the same thing, in the end. In the Room of Spirit and Time, he’d asked Vegeta to trust him. Vegeta had given him that trust. 

Goku hadn’t followed through. Of course Vegeta was mad at him. 

Vegeta tried to pull his hand away, his face twisting, but Goku tightened his grip. He didn’t want things to stay tense between them forever. He wanted his friend back, the one he’d started to know in the Room of Spirit and Time. 

“We never did finish our fight.” Goku smiled. He was still looking forward to it. Maybe it would clear the air, between them. “Can we do that, sometime?” He let go of Vegeta’s hand, a peace offering.

“Yes.” Vegeta’s tone was cautious, but Goku was delighted to see a small smile curve Vegeta’s lips. “Let’s do that. Tomorrow.” 

Goku grinned, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. He’d gotten the first step right. More than an apology, a good match would start to set things right. They were never very good with words, but fighting bound them. 

He had his sparring partner back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Tree leaves rustled softly, birds chirping. The scent of frying bacon, baking bread, tickled his nose. “Goku! Breakfast!” He stood, stretched, smiled._

Vegeta blinked the rest of the way awake, groggy. He normally woke all at once, an old habit from less than safe sleeping situations in his days at the PTO. Somewhere during his moment of waking, one of Kakarot’s peaceful memories had intruded. It felt like it was trying to suck him back into sleep. 

Kicking the covers off, Vegeta stood, dragging a hand over his face. So many of Kakarot’s memories were warm and happy. Flying over the Earth’s forests on his stupid cloud. Running around with bottles of milk alongside Krillin and the old turtle hermit, laughing. 

It was unnerving. Vegeta didn’t know what to do with all that softness invading his head. 

He turned on the shower, stripped off his underwear, stepped in. Hot water pounded against his face, anchoring him in the present. He lathered, rinsed, touch light over the scar where his tail had once been. 

_A circular scar, darker than the others. He wanted to apologize for that mark. His fingers twitched to touch._

Vegeta licked his lips, skin burning. There was so much hunger, in some of Kakarot’s memories. How had he missed it, in the Room of Spirit and Time? That memory must have been from their months there. Kakarot would hardly know anyone else with such a distinctive scar. 

Kakarot damned well should apologize for it. Vegeta still missed having his tail. He was Saiyan, it was a part of him. 

Vegeta stepped out of the shower, toweled off. Was Kakarot seeing this many of Vegeta’s memories? 

He shoved the towel back on the rack, stomach curdling. His head was filled with things he wanted no one else to know. It had been a relief, on Earth, to start fresh. No one here knew the details of life in the PTO, how shitty it had been. How degrading. He could pretend, here, that he had never suffered the indignity of working as a disposable foot-soldier in a maniac’s army. 

He had almost certainly lost that luxury. Decades of his memories shoved into Kakarot’s head. So many of them revealing. 

_Excitement flooded him. Here was the strongest opponent he’d ever faced. Cocky stance, feet spread wide, arms crossed. Body tightly outlined in bright blue. A confident smirk, spiky hair like his own that blew in the wind. He wanted this fight._

Vegeta laughed as he recalled the memory of Kakarot’s that had filtered in yesterday. The tiled walls echoed his laughter back to him. Kakarot had been so very impressed, their first meeting. Far more than Vegeta had realized at the time. He’d been hungry, too. Drinking in every detail. A little more than strictly necessary, for battle. 

It had been the same for Vegeta. 

How long would Kakarot’s respect for Vegeta last, now that he was surely being treated to the highlights reel of Vegeta’s worst memories? Shame curled through him. It was possible that even in the time since they’d spoken yesterday, Kakarot had seen something or several somethings that would irrevocably change his view of Vegeta. 

He swallowed hard. He didn’t want that. 

No matter. Vegeta pushed open the bathroom door, pulled clothes out of the closet. He’d be learning in a couple of hours, just where it was they stood now. 

He didn’t care, he reminded himself. He didn’t care what Kakarot’s opinion of him was.

* * *

Kakarot had already found them a sparring ground. His ki was a bright candle in an otherwise empty stretch. 

It was scenic, Vegeta noted as he landed. Rolling grass, white tipped mountains in the distance. His ears picked up the soft rush of a nearby river. 

“Vegeta,” Kakarot grinned at him, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, “ready?”

Kakarot certainly looked ready. Vegeta’s stomach was suddenly a pool of fire. 

“Of course,” Vegeta retreated into a sneer, bracing himself into a fighting stance, “you’re the one who’s been avoiding this.” For eight fucking years. 

Unruffled, Kakarot slid into his own stance. So Earthling. His expression, however, was full Saiyan. Sharp teeth, bright eyes, ready to fight and enjoy it. 

Vegeta moved first, unable to bear the tension that had been building long before they’d landed in this fucking picturesque field. Kakarot dodged Vegeta’s fist, all controlled power and minutely precise movements, and Vegeta wondered if Kakarot could feel how Vegeta was burning. 

Hyperaware, he spun so that Kakarot’s returned kick skimmed barely past him. The breeze of it felt delicious. Slipping inside Kakarot’s guard with that motion, Vegeta drove his fist into Kakarot’s stomach, grinned wider at the feel of hot muscle connecting with his hand. Kakarot coughed, doubling over even as he sprung back, and Vegeta’s eyes were drawn to Kakarot’s lips.

Predatory grin flashing, Kakarot darted to take advantage of Vegeta’s momentary distraction. Vegeta dodged, parried, kicked. Kakarot landed a punch to Vegeta’s shoulder, the solidness of the blow almost a pleasure. Ki blast, parry, dodge. They were a blur around each other, quick blows and dancing feet. No holds, this time, just movement. Pent up energy finally finding a release in limbs colliding. 

Vegeta lost track of time. There was only this, this tension building, releasing, between them in a never ending pattern. Punch, block, kick. Kakarot’s scent was sharp in his nose, Kakarot’s skin warm against his limbs. 

A friendly spar. This delight of motion was almost unfamiliar to Vegeta. To simply enjoy the movement, the stretch, the power of his own body pitted against another’s, with no fear for loss of life or limb. 

He could get used to this. To this river of motion with Kakarot, fighting simply for the joy of it. 

Kakarot faltered, opening a barely there gap in his defense, and Vegeta took it. So attuned to Kakarot’s movements, it took only a fraction of a second’s distraction. He pinned Kakarot, his knees framing Kakarot’s waist and his hands pinning Kakarot’s arms to the ground above Kakarot’s head. One foot twisted over Kakarot’s leg, limiting his ability to kick. 

Panting hard, they stared at each. Sweat tickled Vegeta’s neck, slid along Kakarot’s collarbone. They’d been sparring for a long time, Vegeta realized. Enough that his limbs would feel pleasantly heavy later.

Kakarot was so warm underneath him. This was similar, Vegeta realized with a jolt, to their position at the end of their last battle. 

“You win, Vegeta,” Kakarot was smiling, looking soft. His lips were very full, Vegeta noted. A flush was spreading down Kakarot’s neck, his collarbone. Vegeta fought the urge to lick his lips. To taste Kakarot. 

“Of course.” Vegeta smirked, released Kakarot’s hands. He didn’t stand yet. 

Kakarot pushed himself into a partially seated position. Their faces were close, now, Kakarot’s flush even more pronounced. Lips slightly parted. 

How dare he look so fucking good. 

_”“For god’s sake, just fuck him and get it over with.”_ Bulma’s advice echoed in his head. 

Vegeta leaned forward, slightly. Watching. It would take so little movement now, to learn the feel of Kakarot’s lips. 

Kakarot’s eyelashes fluttered, and Vegeta heard him inhale sharply. Yes. Finally. Vegeta shifted closer. His skin tingled. 

Planting his hand in Vegeta’s chest, Kakarot shoved Vegeta back to sprawl on the ground. 

Fucking undignified. 

Snarling, Vegeta sat up. Kakarot looked guilty, the bastard. Hunching over cross legged, hands tight against his ankles. 

The burning across Vegeta’s skin felt cold, now. 

“Sorry, Vegeta,” if Kakarot’s apology was for rejecting Vegeta’s advances, Vegeta was going to throttle him, “I didn’t mean to get up in your personal space like that.”

He fucking what? Vegeta stared at Kakarot, momentarily stunned. Was Kakarot simply trying to spare Vegeta’s pride, or had he really not noticed what Vegeta was doing? 

“Forget it.” A sentence to cover a multitude of scenarios. 

The tension in Kakarot’s face eased. “Thanks, Vegeta. I know you don’t like people touching you for no reason.”

That was not inaccurate. But there had been multiple reasons. Besides which, Vegeta had been the one sitting on Kakarot. What was Kakarot playing at?

Whatever it was, going along with it was clearly the best option. Really Vegeta had been a fool to make the first move. A recipe for humiliation. He was fortunate that Kakarot was either too dense to notice or too gentle to use it against him. 

“Hmph.” Vegeta stood up, brushing dust off his track pants. 

“So,” Kakarot bounced to his feet, full of awkward energy. What the fuck? “Want to, um, get lunch?”

What?

“There’s some good fishing around here,” Kakarot waved vaguely towards the river Vegeta had noted earlier, “and sparring always makes me hungry.”

“Very Saiyan of you,” Vegeta’s response was autopilot. Kakarot smiled widely, apparently pleased to be acting Saiyan. 

What the fuck was going on today?


	6. Chapter 6

Goku leaned on the half-wall separating the kitchen from the dining room, watched ChiChi kneading bread. He was almost sad he’d miss the smell of it baking. But sparring would be even more delicious.

“ChiChi, I’m gonna go out for a bit.”

She froze, face stiff. “Where to?”

Goku’s skin prickled. But he wasn’t going to lie. “Sparring.”

ChiChi punched the bread a bit harder than necessary. “You said you’d find a job, when you got back.”

Had he? Goku cast back, struggling to remember. 

“You don’t even remember, do you?” There was a sigh in ChiChi’s voice. “You only ever remember things to do with fighting.” 

That was true. Goku didn’t think telling her that would help though, so he stayed quiet.

“It doesn’t fit, does it?” ChiChi’s voice was wistful.

“What?”

“The mold I wanted to fit us to. It never did.”

Goku watched the bread. Did she normally spend this long kneading it? He’d rather think about the bread than the uneasy feeling he sometimes got, when he had to do Earth things like put on fancy clothes and go to parent-teacher conferences. Try to feel full with only one plate of food at a restaurant, like everyone around him.

“It’s okay.” ChiChi gathered the bread dough, plopped it into a bowl, stretched a cover over it. Sat it cozy in the sun. “We’ll just have to find a shape that does fit. For our family.”

Goku smelled the comforting familiarity of the bread, and found himself wishing for a different familiar scent. Thought about warm fingers brushing his face in the rain.

“ChiChi,” Goku hesitated, “what kind of shape?” A realization waiting to happen tickled the edges of his mind. 

She looked at him sadly, smiled. He saw, now, echoes of the same expression she’d worn when she welcomed him back from Yardrat. When she visited his hospital room in the weeks between his battle with Vegeta and his departure to Namek. While he’d trained for the androids. “Whatever makes us happy. I think that’s the only thing that matters, in the end.” 

“ChiChi.” He was glad of her. She was so warm. So here. Part of Goku was always apart. Focused on his next battle. The next time he’d feel completely alive again. It had only been a little part, at first. When Gohan was small, so much of Goku was here, in their home, focused on his family. But Gohan got bigger, and ChiChi was self-sufficient, and Goku wanted more and more to focus on his training. 

Maybe it was a Saiyan thing.

ChiChi watched him, sighed. “You’re already thinking about your next battle, aren’t you? You might as well be married to your fighting, instead of to me.”

Goku shifted, hot, thoughts tracking to Vegeta. Why? 

“It’s okay.” ChiChi’s voice drew him back to the kitchen. “I think I understand, a little.”

“Oh.” Goku wondered if she understood better than he did, somehow. 

She leaned her hip against the kitchen counter, smiled at him. “Go and enjoy your spar, Goku.”

With Vegeta. Goku felt the grin spreading over his face, waved goodbye to ChiChi as he darted out the door.

* * *

Goku enjoyed the feel of the breeze against his face as he flew. The sun was high overhead, signaling that it was nearly time for their spar. He wanted to find a good spot. Somewhere with grass for landing on, maybe.

_Cold metal burned his cheek. Strength drained from his body. His tail ached. “Stupid monkey.” Laughter. He hated them. He’d kill them. A boot connected with his ribs, and he snarled._

Goku counted slowly to ten as he flew, waiting for the ball of impotent rage in his chest to fade. Some of it was his own. He didn’t know who’d grabbed Vegeta’s tail then literally kicked him while he was down, but Goku hated them too now. 

There. An open space below, nicely circled by a river and some cliffs. Goku dipped his flight, landed. Breathed in and out, trying to ground himself again after that memory flash. 

A welcome ki closing in snapped Goku’s attention, and he grinned, turning to face the dark clad figure landing nearby.

“Vegeta.” Goku bounced lightly on his feet, shaking his limbs out, preparing his focus for the coming collision of fists. “Ready?”

Vegeta smirked, slid into a fighting stance, all confidence and raw strength. Goku fought the urge to lick his lips. “Of course. You’re the one who’s been avoiding this.” 

The hell he had been. Goku felt as if he’d been starving, waiting for this moment. He slid into his own fighting stance, grinning. 

Vegeta attacked first, and Goku was momentarily so distracted by the sheer joy of watching him move that Vegeta’s fist nearly found its mark against Goku’s face.

But no. Being distracted was disrespectful. They were here to fight. 

Their fight was a deadly dance, their balance so perfect it made Goku’s blood sing. Even the hits Vegeta landed felt good, a connection, a recognition of strength. Goku lost himself to the joy of it, reveling in the push and pull of battle. They orbited each other so closely, so easily. Punches, kicks, blocks, parries, they knew and matched each other so very well. Strikes skimmed just barely past, grazing, a near-release that made Goku’s skin tingle. 

Vegeta was clearly enjoying himself too. It left Goku warm, happy that Vegeta remembered and embraced the dynamic they’d finally reached at the end of their time in the Room. Goku watched Vegeta’s face, memorized his body, breathed deep his scent. Attuned himself to every minute shift. Saw when Vegeta’s face softened, almost gentle, with his own delight in the spar. The expression was so new, so unexpected, that it stole Goku’s breath for a moment. He was fighting, and his opponent was beautiful. 

And deadly. Goku saw the moment Vegeta recognized Goku’s hitched breath, but he couldn’t move fast enough to block Vegeta’s lunge. The air slammed out of Goku as Vegeta pinned him, holding Goku’s arms above Goku’s head. Vegeta’s thighs were warm against Goku’s, and his grin filled Goku’s vision, sharp white teeth and tempting curving lips. Goku wasn’t even upset about it, losing like this. The whole spar had just felt so damned good, and now here they were, back pressed against each other.

Goku’s breath was loud. He watched a bead of sweat trace Vegeta’s neck, wished he could lick it off.

“You win, Vegeta,” Goku smiled up at his rival. 

“Of course.” Vegeta smirked, released Goku’s hands. He didn’t stand, and Goku felt dizzy at the heat of him. Goku pushed himself upright, then realized that was a mistake. He’d brought their faces closer together, and Vegeta looked too damned good right now, flushed and panting from their spar. 

Just a tiny little movement and he could kiss Vegeta. 

Oh. Goku’s eyes involuntarily dropped closed for a moment, and he fought to regain control, to even his breath. The realization flooded through him. He wanted to kiss Vegeta. A lot. 

Was that what ChiChi had understood, this morning? Had been trying to give him permission to do? 

When he opened his eyes, Vegeta was somehow impossibly closer. He smelled so damn good. Goku leaned forward, wanting, then caught himself in alarm. What if Vegeta hated him for it? Too much, too fast. He didn’t want to push and lose this. 

He couldn’t just lean forward and kiss Vegeta. But he couldn’t stay this close to him and not. 

Goku panicked. Placing his hand on Vegeta’s chest, he pushed, trying to bring his own restraint back. He must have pushed harder than he meant to, because Vegeta sprawled backwards with an aggrieved squawk.

Vegeta snarled as he sat back up, and Goku winced internally. He’d probably just made things even worse, in a lot of ways. 

“Sorry, Vegeta,” Goku’s mind spun, “I didn’t mean to get up in your personal space like that.”

Vegeta stared at him, furious. Goku needed more of an apology than that, but what? 

“Forget it.” Vegeta’s voice was sharp, words bitten off angrily, but a weight still lifted from Goku.

“Thanks, Vegeta. I know you don’t like people touching you for no reason.” Right? Right. That made sense right?

Vegeta stared at him. Shit. Maybe it hadn’t made sense?

“Hmph.” Goku felt his breath come back as Vegeta ended their staring match and stood up, brushing dust off his pants. 

“So,” Goku leaped to his feet, desperate to change the subject. “Want to, um, get lunch?”

Vegeta stared at him, voiceless. Oh crap. Was that a sentence for asking people on whatever a date was? Vague memories of conversations with Yamcha and Krillin suggested that it might be.

“There’s some good fishing around here,” Goku gestured hopefully towards the river, trying to get back to safe ground, “and sparring always makes me hungry.”

“Very Saiyan of you.” Vegeta’s tone was neutral, and Goku grinned, relieved. That sounded like Vegeta approved, which meant he’d escaped the trap he’d nearly landed himself in. 

“Great! Then let’s—“

_”I’m fine.” His voice grated. Pain ringed his throat, battle fresh bruises. “Fuck off, Raditz.” He pushed the supporting arm away._

Goku stumbled, the sudden memory flash leaving him feeling chilled, skin prickling as if enemies surrounded him.

“Kakarot?” Vegeta’s voice was sharp, and Goku struggled for a moment to focus on him. Right. That was Vegeta’s memory. It had felt so cold. Goku’s words were frozen in his throat.

“What the fuck did you see.” Vegeta was in his face suddenly snarling, furious. Goku blinked, shocked at the depth of rage there. “Tell me, Kakarot, are you fucking having fun with your tour through my memories?!”

“No.” The word dropped between them. Vegeta’s face went blank and still. Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. Fun sure wasn’t the word Goku would have used, though.

“I see.” Face still blank, Vegeta released Goku’s gi. Goku hadn’t even registered him grabbing it. 

“Vegeta-“ Goku started to reach out, stopped. He didn’t know where to go from here. 

An echoing emptiness. Flashes of heat, bare skin. So very many complex feelings falling to him through Vegeta’s memories.

Vegeta never would have wanted Goku to see any of that. 

“I’m sorry, Vegeta,” Goku lowered his head, feeling like he’d intruded, “it’s not like I’m trying to pry on purpose.” 

Sharp eyes on him. Goku looked up and met Vegeta’s gaze. Saw the moment when Vegeta’s expression shuttered. 

“I think that’s more than enough for one day, Kakarot.” Vegeta turned, fists clenched at his sides, back now to Goku. “Come and find me next time you’re ready for something a little more challenging than fishing.” 

Ki gathered, blasted a cloud of dust in Vegeta’s wake. Goku closed his eyes for a moment, teeth clenched. 

This could be going a lot better.


	7. Chapter 7

_”Grampa, look!” He held up his fish, grinned at the beloved smiling face, wreathed in comforting wrinkles._

Vegeta shook his head in irritation as he flew, trying to will the fuzzy memory away. 

Kakarot had clearly been getting flashes of Vegeta’s own memories, too. Even had the nerve to experience one while Vegeta himself was standing right there. What had he seen that made him freeze so? Some past humiliation in the PTO? Some softness from Vegeta’s time on Earth? Vegeta’s blood boiled cold at the possibilities. 

Even worse was his own slip. Reaching out to Kakarot first, the icy humiliation of being pushed away. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again. 

He didn’t care, Vegeta reminded himself. Kakarot was for fighting, nothing more.

* * *

Bulma tried to rub the headache out of her temples. Squinting at blueprints in a poorly lit room for hours probably hadn’t been the best idea when her head was already hurting from trying to deal with her dammable husband. She willed the pot of coffee to brew faster. 

A clunking noise. She jumped, turned. Vegeta stood next to the fridge, pulling out an energy drink.

“Hello to you too.” Her frustration with him poured into her voice. 

He glared at her, shutting the fridge with odd gentleness. Even when his temper appeared frayed to non existence, he never lost control of that immense strength. Whenever it crossed her mind it impressed her.

It should be terrifying, she knew. His control of his temper was all that stood between her and death by careless accident, and he so rarely acted as if he knew what the word restraint meant. 

“How was sparring?” Direct questions usually got at least a grunted response. 

She watched him grimace, turning as if he could escape the question if he didn’t meet her eyes. 

“That bad, huh?” What the hell was going on between those two? 

His eyes flicked back to her, bottomless black. “What do you care?”

“Of course I care, you ass.” How many times must she tell him? 

Irritation wrinkled his nose. She was never going to tell him how endearing she found that particular expression. “Kakarot’s an idiot.” 

“That’s old news. What else you got?” 

He tugged the lid off the energy drink, gulped down half the bottle in one go. She watched his throat move. 

She raised an eyebrow when he lowered the drink and glanced back at her. His nose wrinkled again. “Fusion is horrible.” 

“Isn’t that over and done with now?” The only news she had of the fusion had come during a screaming match about how crappy their respective days had been after Buu’s arrival. No one had been the victor of that one. 

“Apparently not.” He twisted the cap against the bottle, restless, and she wondered again at the control it must take him to not obliterate the thin plastic. 

“Wait. You fused again?”

He looked at her, aghast. “Of course not.” She bit back a scream of frustration at the circles the conversation was taking, and he seemed to notice and relent slightly. “It had some unpleasant after effects.”

“Are you okay?” Alarm raised the pitch of her voice. What would they do if he wasn’t? It’s not like a doctor could help out with the after effects of some magical fusion technique. 

“Fine, just,” his lips twisted, and she realized with a jolt that he was deeply upset about something. He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a troublesome thought. “Fine.” 

“Is Goku okay?” If there were after effects, it would be falling on both of them, right?

Vegeta looked upset still. Tiny tells, tension around his eyes, a tightening of the lips. She’d gotten used to his expressions over the years. “He’s fine.”

She wanted to shake him and yell until some actual answers fell out. Instead, she contented herself with sighing and pouring some of the finally ready coffee. “I wish I could see what’s inside your head sometimes, Vegeta.”

A bark of laughter, tinged manic. Bulma jumped, surprised at the intensity. “I really don’t think you do, Bulma. I have it on good authority that the experience isn’t pleasant.”

“Hold on,” something clicked in her head, “don’t tell me that the fusion after effect is telepathy?”

“Fuck no, thank god,” Vegeta shuddered, and Bulma didn’t blame him, “memories. Bad enough.”

“Oh my god.” Bulma crossed the kitchen in a few steps, laid her hand against Vegeta’s shoulder. He turned to her in surprise, and she leaned in to hug him. He stiffened but didn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry, Vegeta. You must hate that.”

He guarded his feelings and his past so carefully. For Goku to have access to his memories would be a nightmare. Tension lined his frame.

“Wait,” the thought came to her suddenly, and she pulled back, grabbed his chin so he was forced to look at her. Glare at her. “Vegeta, does that mean he knows about, you know. That time?” After Goku’s death, she meant.

Horror colored his expression, and he pulled away, though with little force. “I don’t fucking know, alright? He could be seeing anything, I have no idea what.” 

She really shouldn’t have needled him, yesterday. But she was tired of swallowing her own frustrations down. All the explanations he’d never speak. Interpreting him was exhausting. 

“Well,” the coffee smelled good, at least. She drew some energy from it. “I guess you’ll just have to ask him.”

Vegeta growled and stormed off, and Bulma bit back an uncharitable laugh. Talking was never his strong suit. Nor Goku’s. 

Looked like she had front row seats to the comedy, at least.

* * *

Vegeta brushed bare fingers idly over the red rock he sat on. He really should get some of his armor back out of their shared closet, now that he and Bulma seemed to be on speaking terms again. At least his gloves.

Frustration prickled through him. His head was full of Kakarot’s memories, soft and warm and infuriatingly genuine, but he still found himself guessing at the idiot’s motives. 

Echoes of their time in the Room, when Vegeta had wondered if Kakarot was simply searching for weakness. He hadn’t been. Vegeta had seen that himself, in time, and every memory fragment of Kakarot’s that trickled through just confirmed it.

_Concern. He wanted him to live._   
_A smirk, a fluid attack. He would never get tired of this._   
_As he’d thought all those years ago, a perfect sparring partner._   
_His hands itched to touch the curve of that cheek._

Kakarot had enjoyed their spar several days ago just as much as Vegeta had, from the look on his face. 

But he’d avoided Vegeta since then. Even Kakarot would change his tune when he saw just how beaten down Vegeta had allowed himself to be under Frieza’s command. Constantly bowing his head and gritting his teeth if it meant surviving another day. Learning how to lick boots. 

He hated that he couldn’t seem to leave it behind. 

Vegeta curled his fingers into a fist, punched the rocky spire he sat on. Fuck fusion.


	8. Chapter 8

Goku stood and stretched, morning meditation finished. The sun was warm against his skin. This was a good morning. 

_He kneeled on the floor. Bile rose in his throat. He hated this game._

Another one that left him chilled, flooding into his head without warning. Were all of Vegeta’s memories this extreme, or just what was coming through from the fusion fragments? 

He thought back to the Room. How Vegeta had accused Goku of living a soft life. It made a horrible kind of sense now that he’d seen so many pieces of what Vegeta’s life had been like before Earth.

Vegeta’s rage after sparring yesterday. Of course he wouldn’t want Goku seeing this much of his past. 

Goku dragged a hand through his hair, thinking about the other memory pieces. Loneliness, wanting. There was no way Goku could act on any of that right now, either, not just based on memory pieces. 

What he really needed to do right now was give Vegeta space. Goku couldn’t be the one to reach out first. That would only prickle Vegeta’s pride, draw his rage at Goku’s insights into Vegeta’s head after the fusion.

Much better to wait and follow Vegeta’s lead.

He crossed the lawn, pushed open the front door. Goten grinned at him, a quick pause in his race around the table laying out plates. 

“Morning, Goten.” Goku crossed the room, ruffled his youngest son’s hair, felt light as they grinned at each other. “Helping your mom?”

“Yup!” Goten bounded free, continuing his circuit of the table. He paused, looked back. “Does meditating make you stronger?”

“I’d say so, yeah.” Goku smiled. “You wanna learn?” It would be nice to teach him something.

“Yeah!” Goten’s face split in a broad grin. The eight years that Goku hadn’t been there were always present and absent. Things he had missed, things they would always be to each other regardless. So many more things to look forward to.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Goku.” ChiChi’s gaze was approving. “For now, come help me put this on the table.”

“Yeah!” It smelled so good. Goku happily headed towards the kitchen.

_Scent of iron, delicious. Screams that exhilarated him. He was in control, here. His enemies would take his rage._

Goku lurched, the rabid glee of the memory rapidly sinking to his own twisting stomach. Taking so much delight in hurting others. It was foreign to him. The room lost its familiarity around him, everything dark and threatening for a moment.

“Goku?” ChiChi touched his shoulder, concerned. His feet had carried him to the kitchen doorway even as the memory overwhelmed him.

“Sorry, ChiChi,” he smiled, a shadow, and tried to feel himself again.

She frowned at him. “Actually, could you grab some more wood from outside? I used up a lot in the fire this morning.”

A welcome escape into the fresh air for a moment, where Goten wasn’t watching. “Sure thing, ChiChi.”

The breeze was a relief against his skin. Leaves waving gently, the tree he’d sat under for his morning meditation seemed to taunt him. He’d been so calm, but the memories just kept seeping in.

Vegeta, he realized, did not have that kind of avenue for calm. That release, that glee. Dark wine in a glass. 

Goku swallowed hard, shook the train of thought loose from his head, and started collecting the wood.

* * *

He looked doubtfully at the field.

“Turnips.” ChiChi said firmly.

“Are you sure, ChiChi?” Goku raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head.

“Yes.” She sure sounded sure. “We need some kind of stable source of income, Goku, that’s just how the world works. It’s going to be turnips.”

She pushed a packet of seeds into his hands. Goku squinted at it. Turnips.

“I looked it all up, and they’re the easiest crop to grow,” ChiChi continued, “you just need to get them into the ground and keep them watered a little. Think of it as a training exercise, like you do with all your chores.”

She’d figured that one out, huh? “Okay, ChiChi. Turnips it is.” If it was this important to her, then he’d make an attempt. She’d scaled back all kinds of other expectations she had of him functioning in human society, including, she had clarified, monogamy. But income remained firmly on the non-negotiable list.

“Thank you, Goku.” She patted his shoulder. “We’ll have lunch as soon as you get the planting finished up.”

He turned the seed packet this way and that as she left. Oh, there. Instructions of some kind, with pictures. The seeds were meant to go even spaced in the ground, about a finger’s length down. Easy. He’d already cleared it down to dirt on ChiChi’s direction yesterday.

Bending down, Goku dug his hand through the earth, enjoying the scent and texture. 

_He inhaled deeply, forest scent rich in his lungs. Finally off that goddamn metal prison of a spaceship._

Goku paused, closed his eyes. He had no control over when or what memory fragments he got, but at least that one had been relatively benign. Not like some of the others.

At least Vegeta had some moments of actual calm, rather than just that manic transfer of misery from himself to his enemies on the battlefield.

Finally the memories were fading, coming less and less often. That was a relief. It’d be easier to have a normal conversation with Vegeta if he didn’t have to worry about fragments popping into his head. 

As if any conversation with Vegeta was ever normal. 

Goku ripped open the seed packet, shook some out in his hand, started poking them into the ground in even rows. It had been several days now since his spar with Vegeta. Maybe he’d give it a couple more before he headed back over to Capsule Corp. It’d be better not to crowd Vegeta.

* * *

The smell of coffee tickled Goku’s nose as he tracked Vegeta’s ki through Capsule Corp. There were so many hallways in this place. 

Familiar ki warm behind the next door. Goku pushed it open, blinked in the bright sunlight. It picked out reddish highlights in Vegeta’s normally black flame of hair. Would that hair feel soft under Goku’s fingers?

Vegeta turned to him with a glare of incandescent rage.

Oh. A week and a half of not crowding Vegeta didn’t seem to have left him any calmer. He looked even madder than when they’d parted after sparring. 

“Mornin’, Vegeta,” Goku smiled, “up for a spar?”

“What took you so damn long,” Vegeta snapped, then jolted slightly. One of the tells Goku had noticed in the Room when Vegeta said something he hadn’t meant to.

Vegeta didn’t really think Goku would find some way to hold wanting to spar over him, did he?

“Yeah, sorry,” Goku strolled over to the table, dropped into a chair. Vegeta’s hands tightened around his mug of coffee. “ChiChi had me planting turnips.”

“Turnips.” Disbelief, and Goku liked to think a little amusement, colored Vegeta’s voice.

“Yep. Gotta make a living somehow.” Goku grinned, then felt the expression fade. Vegeta’s time in the PTO could probably fall under the category of making a living, and Goku wasn’t sure how to skirt that in a conversation. At least the memory flashes seemed to have stopped, so he was only dealing with what had already trickled in.

Vegeta took a sip of his coffee, watching Goku out of the corner of his eye. “You have a strange order of priorities, Kakarot.”

He sounded less grumpy. That was good. “Well, I’m here for sparring now?”

“You think I’ll drop everything just because you show up?” The irritation was back in Vegeta’s voice.

“Ah.” Goku paused. Power dynamics, of the sort Goku preferred to avoid entirely, featured heavily in the PTO memory fragments. “I can come back later if you’d rather? Just. Tell me when.”

Vegeta blinked at him, apparently surprised that Goku had immediately deferred. Goku held his breath and hoped it would improve Vegeta’s mood a little.

“Well.” Another sip of coffee. “Lucky for you, Kakarot, I do happen to have time for your games at the moment.”

Goku bit his tongue against the urge to point out that Vegeta was the one playing games right now. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”

* * *

Goku blocked Vegeta’s punch and grinned, retaliating with a kick that visibly jarred Vegeta’s guard. When Vegeta was ready had turned out to be as soon as he’d finished his cup of coffee, and Goku was overflowing with being able to spar again.

Another flurry of punches, a ki blast. Around them mountains soared, the same sparring ground they’d come to last time. 

Vegeta seemed a little off balance, today. Goku smiled, teeth showing. He wasn’t going to let something like that slide in a spar. 

The last couple exchanges had worn Vegeta down more than Goku really thought they should. Lunging at the next opening, a gap in Vegeta’s guard as he blocked a punch, Goku slipped behind Vegeta to grab him in a stranglehold. 

“One.” He started counting automatically, felt his breath catch when he realized how familiar this was from the Room. “Two.”

Vegeta was still against him, not struggling, not moving to tap out. “Three. Four. Five.”

So warm, where Vegeta’s back pressed against his chest. “Six. Seven.” Vegeta’s scent filled his nose.

“Eight. Nine.” Goku didn’t feel the normal satisfaction that came with winning a round.

“Ten.” He dropped his arm, stepped back. Vegeta remained still, back towards Goku.

“Vegeta?” Goku stepped towards Vegeta’s side, reached out a hand to hover without making contact with Vegeta’s shoulder. Vegeta turned and glared at him. 

Something felt off, but Goku couldn’t place what. He ran his tongue over his too dry lips. “Want to take a lunch break?”

Vegeta snorted, breaking the strange tension. “Thinking with your stomach as always, Kakarot.”

Goku smiled. “That’s a yes though, right?”

Instead of answering, Vegeta turned and took flight towards the river. Goku followed, then realized with a start that he hadn’t specified the fish he’d been planning on eating. 

Maybe Vegeta also just really liked fish.

Landing at the riverbank, Vegeta stripped off his shirt, kicked off his boots. Goku felt heat rising in his face, and realized he hadn’t thought this through all the way. His eyes traced the curve of Vegeta’s spine, caught on a scar diagonal across his back.

“You’ve never told me,” Goku blurted, “where all those scars came from.”

Vegeta froze, thumbs hooked under his waistband in the process of adding his pants to the pile of clothing on the ground. He turned, moving to cross his arms over his bare chest, and Goku’s eyes were involuntarily drawn to the V of muscle disappearing below the now very low-hanging pants. He wondered how red his own face was right now.

“Do you really need to ask, Kakarot?” The bitterness in Vegeta’s voice snapped Goku’s eyes up to his face, “the fusion gave you a nice tour through my head, after all.”

“I’d rather you tell me.” Goku would have preferred it if the fusion hadn’t left him with any memory fragments from Vegeta. He’d felt honored, in the Room, when Vegeta trusted him enough to tell him things. The memory fragments felt like cheating in the worst way.

Vegeta’s eyes widened, surprised, and Goku’s stomach twisted. Against his own preference, he understood better now just how much control meant to Vegeta, and why. How little of it he’d really had, before Frieza’s death. 

“It’s true, I saw a lot of things,” Goku’s voice caught in his tightening throat and he paused, breathed it out, “but I don’t like knowing things that way. It feels like sneaking around behind your back, and I wouldn’t.”

I didn’t want to do it that way, he meant. Had he gotten enough words out to convey that? Vegeta tightened his arms against his chest, protective, narrowed his eyes. Goku felt himself being weighed. 

“Vegeta,” he started to step closer, paused, hand partly raised. Everything felt so off balance. “Ask me anything.”

He watched Vegeta’s jaw clench, fingers curling into fists against his arms. “Anything.”

“Yes.” 

Silence stretched between them. Vegeta turned half away, towards the river. Goku gazed at the sharp profile of his face, Vegeta’s eyes focused on the rushing water. “There’s nothing. You’re already an open goddamn book.”

That wasn’t true, Goku contemplated telling him. There were a lot of things that he kept inside his own head, worried he’d upset his friends and family if he voiced them. But maybe that hadn’t come through, in the memory fragments. Most of the fragments were raw, in the moment, not abstract worries held close. 

Unless Vegeta just didn’t have any of those. 

“Let’s eat, then.” Goku moved to undo the ties on his gi, kicking off his own boots. Doing was always so much easier than talking. 

Vegeta’s eyes were on him when he looked back up, belt now grasped loose in his hand. Turning away, Vegeta shoved his pants to the ground in one swift movement before plunging into the river with barely a splash.


	9. Chapter 9

So that was how the gi ties came off. Vegeta kicked through the cool water, frustrated. How did Kakarot always manage to make heat rise in him so quickly?

How dare Kakarot look down on him so? First his hesitation to spar with Vegeta, then his assumption that Vegeta had simply been sitting around waiting for him.

He hadn’t of course. Perhaps it would have been wise to put Kakarot off for longer. Vegeta’s morning training in the gravity room had drained enough of his edge to leave him at a slight disadvantage against Kakarot this time.

Still, he could have gotten free of Kakarot’s hold. Surely Kakarot hadn’t forgotten how easily Vegeta had escaped that same hold, under Majin control, with a ki blade?

Pitiful. Vegeta cursed himself silently. He hadn’t wanted to deal that level of damage to Kakarot in a so-called friendly spar. Hadn’t wanted to disable his entire arm for days or weeks. So he’d let himself lose. 

Kakarot’s softness was invading him even after the flow of memory fragments had slackened. The concept of a friendly spar shouldn’t have felt so sacrosanct to him. A growl rumbled through Vegeta, though he kept his mouth closed against the river.

There, that fish would do.

He must have spent longer underwater than he realized. When he resurfaced, Kakarot had already cleaned another fish and set it to roast over a wood fire.

Kakarot hadn’t been out of the water long, though. It still dripped from his hair, trailed rivulets down his skin. Vegeta’s fingers twitched, wanting to trace those paths.

Unacceptable.

“Catch,” Vegeta growled, giving Kakarot barely any warning before throwing the fish at him. 

He still caught it easily, of course. “Thanks, Vegeta.” A grin, as if Vegeta’s behavior was normal and polite. Kakarot moved away from the cooking space to begin efficiently gutting the fish. Vegeta shoved down a flash of admiration at the precise skill Kakarot displayed in preparing the catch.

His own hair was still heavy with water. Vegeta ran a hand through it, squeezing out the river, then dragged his fingers upwards to help his hair spring back to its normal shape. It would probably still be a little disheveled, but at least it wouldn’t drag flat down his back like a human’s. 

A prickle in his skin. Vegeta turned sharply, looking for the source of his observer, and caught Kakarot twisting his face guiltily away.

Interesting. Perhaps the flashes of desire that Vegeta had caught in Kakarot’s memories weren’t so outdated after all.

Not that Vegeta was going to be fucking stupid enough to try doing anything about it again, after last time.

His underwear were still wet from the river. Vegeta wrinkled his nose, annoyed. He’d have to wait a bit to put his pants on. Settling down on the grass near the fire, he saw from the corner of his eye that Kakarot was watching him again. A soft smile curved Kakarot’s face. 

Vegeta bit back another growl. What the hell was he supposed to do with this?

At least the fish smelled good. He licked his lips without intending to.

“So,” Kakarot’s voice was a little too loud, a little too cheerful, and Vegeta suppressed a twitch of surprise, “this should be enough fish to do us.”

He had the strangest turns of phrase. Vegeta glanced sideways at Kakarot and made a vague noise of agreement. Kakarot grinned back, apparently pleased to have gotten any response at all.

Vegeta watched Kakarot’s bare arm as he stretched out to add the latest pieces of fish to the fire. Smooth skin unblemished by scars, sculpted muscles that were all the more attractive when Vegeta had felt the power that lay behind them. 

Kakarot sat back and fidgeted, fingers pulling at the grass now that his hands were no longer occupied with fish. His gaze strayed to Vegeta’s left thigh, currently the one closest to Kakarot, then snapped away again when Vegeta turned towards him.

That old scar from Xoibec. Vegeta frowned, inspecting it himself. It ran nearly from hip to knee, a jagged slash. The clawed attack has torn his leg down to the bone. Without the PTO’s healing tanks, he might not have regained full use of that limb. 

“Why are you so fascinated?” Vegeta turned grudgingly to look at Kakarot, wondering if his earlier offer of answering anything still stood. “By these scars, I mean.” 

Kakarot’s lips had parted slightly in surprise. It was a good look on him that Vegeta was going to resolutely ignore. 

“Well,” Kakarot licked his lips, testing Vegeta’s resolve, “they’re from battles, right? That makes them interesting. You must have been fighting some strong people.” That fucking warm, soft smile again. “I’m a little, jealous, Vegeta. You must have had a lot of good fights.”

Was that what Kakarot imagined? That every scar held the story of some noble one-on-one showdown, a clash with a single powerful and worthy foe?

Vegeta would have liked that a lot better.

“You must know that isn’t correct by now, Kakarot.” Though Kakarot had been cagey about just what he was seeing in Vegeta’s memories, he’d hardly have seen something contradicting reality. 

“I really don’t see all that much,” Kakarot hesitated, apparently wondering how much to say.

“This one, then.” Vegeta pointed to the scar from Xoibec, noted with some interest that Kakarot’s face reddened as he obediently turned his attention to Vegeta’s bare thigh. “What did you see about this one?”

“Um,” Kakarot raised a hand to tug at his hair, betraying more nerves, “cold, mostly. Really really cold.” 

Accurate, but vague. “Nothing at all about the enemies?”

“Sharp.” Kakarot met Vegeta’s eyes, shrugged in apology. “More than one, I think. There really isn’t that much detail to most of ‘em.” 

The tightness that had been sitting in Vegeta’s chest for more than a week eased slightly. Perhaps Kakarot really wasn’t seeing anything too damning.

“They weren’t that strong, individually.” Vegeta shrugged, deciding to answer Kakarot’s question. He found himself the full focus of Kakarot’s rapt attention, and told himself he wasn’t enjoying it. “You’d have found them boring to fight one-on-one, even as you were back when we first met. The terrain did as much damage as the enemies.” That fucking cold.

“The cold feeling.” Kakarot blinked, seeming to understand. “You remembered it more than the people you were fighting.” 

Vegeta winced and tried to hide it, hating this new insight that he’d unintentionally given Kakarot. The new insight he’d just gotten from Kakarot. If it was his own focus that determined the fragments, which of course made sense for a memory of his, then there was little hope after all that Kakarot hadn’t seen some of Vegeta’s less admirable moments.

Not that Xoibec had left him covered in fucking glory. Mostly just his own blood. 

“What about this one, then?” Vegeta pointed to a scar on his right bicep. If Kakarot was going to dodge Vegeta’s questions about just what memories he’d seen, well, Vegeta had other ways of dragging it out of him. 

Kakarot’s eyes flicked to the scar and he froze, mouth clamped shut. 

So he knew. 

_”Insolent monkey!” Zarbon’s voice, rage twisting it out of his usual urbane tones._

_Pain slashed Vegeta’s shoulder. Fucking blastard had hit him with a ki blade. Vegeta banked his rage, resisting the urge to bare teeth at his ‘superior officer’. Humiliating fucking PTO language._

_“When I give you an order, Vegeta, you do not ask_ questions _.”_

_Gritting his teeth, Vegeta forced his chin down in an appearance of subservience. “Yes, Zarbon.”_

_“That’s_ Lord _Zarbon to you, little monkey.” The lowered head had appeased him. Last retort thrown, Zarbon strode down the hallway, cape flaring behind him._

“Well, Kakarot?” Vegeta drawled, “I thought you said you would answer anything.”

“That’s,” Kakarot started, hesitated, folded his arms across his bare chest in obvious discomfort. Looked at Vegeta, looked away, looked back, confusion creasing his brow. “That’s a bad one, isn’t it? Why do you want to talk about that one right off?”

Why _was_ he doing this? Forcing Kakarot to voice Vegeta’s own humiliation back to him. 

But Kakarot clearly already fucking knew. A bad one. Damn him. Better that Vegeta pull the knowledge from him now, when he chose to.

“God dammit, Kakarot,” Vegeta’s temper snapped, “I’ve told you already, I want to know what the fuck you saw!”

Kakarot’s jaw clenched, and Vegeta noted with surprise that he looked truly angry. An usual look, for Kakarot. “I saw enough that if I ever met whoever the hell Zarbon is, I’d probably kill him.”

Vegeta barked a laugh. “Too late. I already did that.”

“Good.” The bloodthirsty response from Kakarot gave Vegeta pause. He turned, measuring the other Saiyan. Kakarot glared at him. “Like I said, Vegeta, I saw a lot.”

More than just that one memory of Zarbon. Surely several of Frieza. Vegeta shuddered without meaning to, then realized in the scheme of things it hardly mattered whether Kakarot noticed. 

“Vegeta.” Kakarot’s hand, large and warm on Vegeta’s shoulder. He wanted to lean into it. He wanted to pull away from it. Kakarot’s grip tightened, and Vegeta wanted to scream in protest at how reassuring it was. “Vegeta, I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m soft. Growing up on Earth. I still barely get it. But.” 

But? The word hung. Vegeta watched the fish blackening in the fire, waited for some condemnation to fall from Kakarot’s lips. A baring of Vegeta’s weakness. 

“I’m not as strong as you, Vegeta.” 

What?

“I grew up surrounded by people who wanted to help me. So I can’t really understand, even with the fusion memories. But I do know that I underestimated just how strong you are.” 

He must have heard wrong. What the hell had Kakarot just said? 

Vegeta’s eyes stung damningly. He wasn’t strong. He’d let himself be used. Kakarot would never have succumbed to such weakness. He would have died first, pride more intact than Vegeta’s could ever be. 

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s hand cupped his chin, turned his face, and Vegeta bared his teeth in a snarl. Anything to hide the shame prickling through him. 

Concern lined Kakarot’s face, and nothing in Vegeta’s knowledge of Kakarot could equate that concern with disdain. 

What was he supposed to _do_ with all of this?

Kakarot drew closer, his scent surrounding Vegeta completely. Safe. Without meaning to, Vegeta swayed closer. 

“Oh!” Kakarot’s face reddened, and he pulled back, “oh, um, the fish, I think, the fish is probably ready now.”

“Right.” Vegeta blinked, feeling like he’d just resurfaced from deep underwater. “Best eat it, then.”


	10. Chapter 10

Goku shifted his weight restlessly, scanning the sky. Vegeta was late. Had he decided not to come? 

It had been a couple days since they last sparred, ate fish. Goku wasn’t sure where he stood with Vegeta.

He’d almost slipped up again. He had slipped up, putting his hand against Vegeta’s face like that. No wonder Vegeta had growled. Good thing Goku had managed to regain his self-control before giving in to the impulse to lean in and actually kiss Vegeta. 

He was going to have to be more careful during their spar today. Vegeta was already rightfully prickly about Goku getting an unauthorized view inside his head. He didn’t want to make things any worse by invading Vegeta’s space physically, too.

There. The familiar burn of Vegeta’s ki, rapidly approaching. Goku locked his eyes on the point in the sky where he could feel Vegeta drawing near, not yet visible.

Dust flew up as Vegeta landed, stirred by his speed and ki. Goku smiled. Such a dramatic entrance.

Bright blue registered, and Goku’s breath caught. Vegeta was wearing his armor again, the same type he’d worn back when they fought the androids. Bulma’s design. The darker blue pared down suit must have been just to meet the Tournament’s no-armor requirement.

It was nostalgic. Goku’s skin tingled, remembered excitement from the first time he’d fought Vegeta, from the months in the Room getting slowly closer. 

And it was just so damn tight. He’d seen Vegeta practically naked just a few days ago, but the battlesuit hugged his skin in a way that made Goku want to peel it off and lay him bare again. Or maybe leave it on, run his hands over that blue, feeling the warmth of Vegeta underneath.

Careful, Goku reminded himself. He swallowed hard.

Vegeta was frowning at him. “New look, Kakarot?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’d forgotten, to be honest. Blue and darker blue instead of orange today, the light blue top half a simpler style of sleeveless wrap-around without a t-shirt under it. 

Vegeta’s frown deepened, and Goku wondered what he’d done to cause offense so quickly. “So, shall we?”

“Mmm.” As Vegeta slid into a fighting stance, his frown gave way to a cocky smirk. Goku grinned back, relieved. He knew what to do with this. 

They moved at the same time, launching toward each other. Eager for the thrill of the fight. Goku’s blood sang. He’d never get tired of sparring with Vegeta like this.

So evenly matched, Goku marveled. They darted around each other, blows landing and being deflected, solid connections leaving only light damage. His doubts dropped away, his mind utterly centered on this here and now with Vegeta. 

They landed, leaped forward. Goku dropped his right foot just inside Vegeta’s left, forcing his stance wider as he redirected Vegeta’s punch past his own right shoulder. Delighted in the momentary widening of Vegeta’s eyes when he realized Goku was completely inside his guard now. 

Goku shifted his foot, hooking Vegeta’s ankle out from under him while he grabbed Vegeta’s right wrist and pulled it out and up. Balance gone, Vegeta toppled backwards with Goku following him down to complete the hold. He collected Vegeta’s wrists, bringing them up over Vegeta’s head in the same motion as he pinned Vegeta’s hips between his knees.

Grin wide with satisfaction, Goku started the count. “One.”

Vegeta twisted underneath him, muscles visibly bunching and shifting beneath the blue of his battlesuit. 

“Two.” He wasn’t going to let Vegeta up from this. Goku had all the leverage right now. “Three.”

Beneath him Vegeta stilled, catching his breath. Without meaning to, Goku watched his slightly parted lips. Vegeta’s dark eyes seemed to weigh him.

“Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.”

It was actually a little distracting, having Vegeta pinned underneath him, panting for breath. Goku felt heat rising in his face, spreading down his chest. 

“Nine.” Oh, no. Not that far down. Were his gi pants loose enough to hide a partial erection?

“Ten.” Goku released Vegeta’s wrists and sat back, but hesitated to stand. Would Vegeta notice? Just how mad would he get if he did?

Sitting on Vegeta, Goku abruptly realized, was not a good solution either. He’d rested his weight on Vegeta’s lap as he sat up, could feel the heat of taut muscle against his thighs and ass. 

Also. Was that?

Snarling, Vegeta sat up and reached up to twist his hands in the two sides of Goku’s wrapped gi, pulling Goku toward him and the fabric loose. The light breeze was wonderfully cool against Goku’s chest where the gi gaped open. Good feature of this style.

“You’re fucking doing this on purpose!” Vegeta was furious and, Goku was surprised to notice, much redder than normal. He was still breathing hard too, which was unusual given how much time he’d had to rest now. 

“Doing what on purpose?” Please, Goku thought, don’t let him notice. 

Although. Had Goku been imagining things earlier, when he was sitting on Vegeta’s lap?

Vegeta made a strangled, frustrated noise, and tried to punch Goku in the nose. 

Goku ducked to the side, then tipped forward into Vegeta, forgetting to compensate for the pull Vegeta still exerted on the right half of his gi. His nose landed in the crook of Vegeta’s neck, and he made an involuntary noise at how good Vegeta smelled. 

He should really move. Instead he was tucking his nose closer, upward to where neck met jaw, lips grazing the column of Vegeta’s bare throat.

Salty, Goku registered. He opened his mouth slightly, tasting. Hot skin against his lips, Vegeta’s pulse thrumming.

A startled gasp. Vegeta. Goku felt the motion against his body, lips against throat, chest to chest. 

Oh. Was Vegeta mad? Goku sat back, distracted. He didn’t want to be moving away. He wanted to be closer.

He’d gotten far enough away to see Vegeta’s face, but only barely. Vegeta’s eyes were so very, very dark. Their breath mingled, lips almost touching.

Vegeta didn’t look mad, Goku realized. Did that mean he didn’t have to move away?

A growl that didn’t sound like a threat rumbled in Vegeta’s throat, and he twisted his right hand into Goku’s hair to pull him closer. 

Their lips met, a rough kiss. Goku groaned as Vegeta’s teeth scraped his lower lip, pressed closer for more. Vegeta’s tongue invaded his mouth, demanding. Goku could really get used to kissing like this.

They broke apart to pant for air. “What the fuck, Kakarot.” Vegeta’s voice was a delicious growl, and Goku licked his lips, wanted, tipped forward. Scraped his teeth against Vegeta’s throat, sucked at the hollow under his jaw, shivered at the sound and feel of Vegeta’s groan. 

The world tipped and reoriented as Vegeta fell down to land on his back, Goku following him down and catching himself with arms braced on either side of Vegeta’s head. Bent down to catch Vegeta’s lips, kissed him hard until they were both out of breath again.

Panting and thoroughly kissed was a good look on Vegeta. Dark eyes hungry, Vegeta raised both hands, pulled off his gloves. Goku shivered. Vegeta reached inside the loosened fabric of Goku’s gi, hand skimming pectoral, skin against skin, and Goku groaned softly.

“What the hell took you so long?” Vegeta punctuated his question by flicking his thumb over Goku’s nipple, grinned, predatory, when Goku gasped and bit his lip. 

“Dunno what you mean.” His gi was in the way. Goku transferred his weight to just his right arm, freed his left hand to pull the tie away from his waist. Vegeta licked his lips, hand trailing lower over Goku’s now bare abs. Thumb grazing the waistband of Goku’s pants. 

Goku’s skin burned where Vegeta touched him, and he shivered as Vegeta scraped his nails lightly against Goku’s ribs. One arm wasn’t enough for balance with this much distraction. Breath coming hard, Goku dropped his left arm to brace himself over Vegeta again, dipped his head to bite gently at Vegeta’s lower lip, licked his way into Vegeta’s mouth. 

Vegeta’s hands were driving him mad against his skin, burning caress of palms, tingling scrapes of nails. Goku broke the kiss to pull back, frustrated, sitting up, putting distance between them. Lazily, Vegeta grinned up at him, eyes trailing Goku’s body, looking like he’d won something. 

“Why do you still have all your clothes on?” Goku stared at Vegeta’s offensively complete set of armor, intact sans gloves, covering him nearly head to toe. 

Vegeta lifted an eyebrow, smirking. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

Damn right he was. Goku slid his tongue across his lips, noted the way Vegeta’s eyes tracked the movement. This almost felt like sparring, this intense focus on each other. 

Grinning, Goku slid his weight down towards Vegeta’s thighs, away from his hips where it had rested. Vegeta gasped in surprise at the movement against his cock, which Goku could now see clearly through the battlesuit was definitely hard. 

It was easy now for Goku to slide his hands under either side of the lower edge of Vegeta’s armor, flat against Vegeta’s muscles warm under his battlesuit. Easy to stretch the armor open, slide it upwards. A little harder to lean forward and get it up close to Vegeta’s shoulders, but easier when Vegeta sat up slightly to help, lifting his arms so Goku could draw the armor over his shoulders. 

Vegeta was awfully cooperative now. Fire pooled and flickered in Goku’s belly. He tossed the armor somewhere off to the side. 

Just the battlesuit now. Goku pushed Vegeta back down, grinned when Vegeta’s eyes widened in surprise. The battlesuit was pretty thin, Goku noted, sliding his hands from Vegeta’s shoulders down across the outline of sculpted pectorals, abs, under the fabric. Vegeta shivered, hot against him. 

Bare skin was still better, Goku decided, though the battlesuit was pretty hot. He repeated the motion he’d used with the armor, sliding his hands under the tight lower edge at Vegeta’s waist, fingers slipping upward across Vegeta’s abs. Bare skin this time, impossibly hot against him, and Goku bit his lip. Dragged his hands up, against Vegeta’s ribs, peeling the battlesuit off. Underneath him Vegeta arched his back, hissed, twisted up to meet Goku in frustration so that the battlesuit would come off faster. Goku pulled it quickly the rest of the way over Vegeta’s arms, tossing it aside as he had the armor. 

“Mmm.” Goku was surprised by his voice, how deep it came out. “Better.” 

Vegeta barked a startled laugh, head tipping back. Goku wanted to swallow him whole, sitting there like that half naked, throat exposed, skin flushed. His hunger must have shown in his expression, because Vegeta caught his eyes and grinned, completely in control even as he stayed pinned under Goku. 

“What next, Kakarot?” 

Still a competition, Goku thought, lips curving. He brought his hand to Vegeta’s chest, thumb tracing the edge of a pectoral, then deliberately pushed Vegeta back, down. He could use his strength, he realized, with no fear of hurting Vegeta. It was heady. 

Lips quirked, Vegeta let himself be pushed down. Goku showed teeth in his answering smile, then hooked his thumbs under Vegeta’s waistband, pulling down. 

The gasp Vegeta made as his cock sprang free was satisfying. Oh, he was definitely enjoying this as much as Goku was. Goku grinned, moved his weight off Vegeta just long enough to pull Vegeta’s boots and pants free, toss them aside, then settled again, this time between Vegeta’s legs. He slid his right hand up Vegeta’s bare thigh, enjoyed the growled groan that got, planted his left hand on the ground next to Vegeta’s hip. 

Looked up to catch Vegeta’s eyes, smirked, lowered his head to wrap his lips around Vegeta’s cock. Pushed downward while savoring the “ahhhh!” shout of pleasure that Vegeta made. 

Salty taste, heat and weight satisfying against his tongue. Goku hummed and pushed downward, seeing how much of Vegeta he could fit in his mouth. Vegeta groaned and bucked upwards against him. That was nice. Goku slid off slightly, closer to the tip, pressed his tongue against the vein as he slid back down. Vegeta groaned again, sounding nicely frantic, and bucked harder this time. Mmm. Goku slid down to meet him, felt Vegeta’s cock bump the back of his throat. 

How much deeper could he take him? Goku moved back again, forward, pleased when Vegeta’s hips lifted eagerly to meet him, and swallowed as they moved. 

“Ahhh!” Vegeta’s cock was partway down Goku’s throat, Goku’s nose buried in Vegeta’s groin, and it sounded like Vegeta liked that a lot. Goku eased off, grabbed some air, and repeated the motion, satisfied to get an even louder groan. They moved again, separating, meeting, Goku delighted to have figured out this tactic.

“Kakarot,” Vegeta’s voice was wrecked, and Goku warmed to have been the one who did it, “I’m going-“

Goku swallowed him again, reveling in being able to turn Vegeta’s sentence into a groan midway through. Vegeta shouted and spilled hot down Goku’s throat. Coughing, Goku eased off enough to swallow properly, moving his right hand from Vegeta’s thigh to his cock to help pump Vegeta through the end of his release. 

Vegeta lay panting, muscles lax. Goku sat up and licked his lips, smile satisfied. Tipping his head to meet Goku’s eyes, Vegeta grinned, and Goku tingled at how sloppy it was. He’d stripped away Vegeta’s usual polish and control, and the knowledge of that was fire in his veins. 

“Hmmm.” Vegeta’s rumble slid down Goku’s spine straight to his cock, which Goku was aware now was achingly hard. “Come here, Kakarot.” 

Here could mean a lot of things. Goku went with settling himself back over Vegeta, mirroring the position they’d started in. Vegeta twisted his hands in Goku’s hair, pulled him down so their bare chests were flush, flipped them over so now it was Goku who lay on his back, Vegeta still settled between his knees. 

It would be really nice if Vegeta would pay a little bit of attention to Goku’s erection, now. He was getting uncomfortable, throbbing and sticky. Vegeta had barely even touched him yet, he’d just enjoyed taking Vegeta apart that much. 

Weight lifted, cool breeze on his chest. Goku made a high pitched noise of complaint at the loss of Vegeta’s body heat, then swallowed it in a gasp as he felt Vegeta’s hands undoing the tie of his gi pants. When had Goku’s eyes fallen closed? He pried them open again, pushed himself up on his elbows so he could watch what Vegeta was doing, trace his eyes across bare scared skin. 

Vegeta was watching him closely as he pushed Goku’s pants down enough to free Goku’s cock. Goku shivered, hypersensitive, eyes falling closed again. Gasped when he felt Vegeta’s hand close around his cock, slow and deliberate friction. Groaned as Vegeta started pumping, dragging some of the stickiness from Goku’s tip downward to ease the slide. 

That felt good. Goku gave up the struggle to keep his eyes open, let his head tip back, lips part. Shivered and moaned when he felt Vegeta licking along his collarbone, sucking bruises from his throat, all the while keeping up a steady pumping, thumb occasionally flicking over Goku’s tip. 

He was shaking with the focus needed to keep his elbows under him now, but he didn’t want to fall back and lose the feel of Vegeta’s mouth. Vegeta eased the decision for him, moving away and standing abruptly. Goku gasped a complaint at the loss of Vegeta’s hand, but second later Vegeta settled at Goku’s back, finally tugging the loosened gi from Goku’s shoulders to toss aside, then slid his arms around Goku to replace one hand on Goku’s cock, the other now stroking the crease of Goku’s hip. 

“Mmm.” Goku relaxed, tipped his head back to bare his throat to Vegeta, shuddered with pleasure as Vegeta’s hands kept moving. Vegeta dragged his teeth over the junction of Goku’s shoulder and neck, and Goku shivered. Everything felt so good. The pleasure in his cock was building, stealing his breath more with every stroke of Vegeta’s hand, til finally he hit a peak and gasped, spilling, panting. White behind his eyes, fallen closed again, as Vegeta stroked him through it til Goku gradually came back to awareness, feeling too good to even move. 

He was still wearing his boots, Goku realized. He shifted just enough to pull them off, wriggled his bare toes against the grass, hummed and settled his weight back against Vegeta. Smiled as Vegeta’s lips brushed the shell of his ear, affectionate. 

“That was nice,” Goku offered into the comfortable silence, “let’s do it again sometime.” 

Vegeta chuckled, and Goku enjoyed feeling it in Vegeta’s chest, against his back. “I suppose we could do that. If you insist.”

“Mmmm.” Goku fumbled for one of Vegeta’s hands, both still wrapped loosely around his waist, slid his thumb against Vegeta’s palm. Smiled as he felt Vegeta shiver, turned and grazed his nose against Vegeta’s neck. “I insist.”


	11. Chapter 11

Vegeta yawned as he leaned against the counter, wide enough to hear his jaw crack. Maybe he’d turned the gravity a little too high in his morning training. 

“Ohhh, are you making coffee?” Bulma brushed past him into the kitchen, absently patting him on the shoulder. 

“My coffee,” Vegeta protested. 

“Oh hush, you’re not going to drink the whole pot in one sitting.” Bulma paused, eyed the two mugs that Vegeta had already set on the counter. Turned to him and lifted an eyebrow.

“I might.” Of course he’d expected to share the coffee, which Bulma might well punch a man to get to, but he didn’t want people going around thinking he was _nice_.

“Hmmm.” She turned and poked around in the cupboard, coming out with a pastry. “You eat yet?” 

“Some.” Half a loaf of bread as toast, and a liter of yoghurt. Only a light snack so far. 

“I’ll order in.” She was already tapping at her phone for catering. No one in the house cooked.

He sensed Kakarot’s ki approaching, tilted his head to follow it. Kakarot was just going to have to wait until he’d finished breakfast before they started their spar.

“That your boyfriend?” Bulma’s tone was teasing. She had tried to claim credit for the entire thing, saying it was her idea in the first place. 

“Don’t call him that.” Stupid juvenile Earthling term. 

“Uh huh.” She poured the coffee, handed him one of the mugs. “Should I order more food?”

“He probably ate already.” Unlike Bulma, Kakarot’s wife actually cooked things like breakfast. 

“I’ll just add a little more, then.” She tapped at the phone again. 

Vegeta took a sip of coffee, savored it for a moment. The bitter morning beverage was one of many things he enjoyed on Earth that he’d had no analogue for previously. Starting the morning by drinking something because it tasted nice, not because it was essential nutrition, was still a surprising pleasure. 

“Morning, Vegeta!” Kakarot bounded in the door, all smiles. “Morning, Bulma!”

“Morning, Goku,” she turned, smiled at him, “you’re bright and early today.” 

Kakarot swung his arms up to fold behind his head, grinned at them. He was getting more of a tan, Vegeta noticed, with his new hobby as a turnip farmer. Perhaps a comparison with the typically covered parts of Kakarot’s skin was in order. 

“It works better if I do the watering early.” He must be talking about turnips again. Kakarot was taking the farming thing oddly seriously, apparently intent on doing it right. 

“Such hard workers, the both of you.” Bulma ruffled her hand through Vegeta’s hair as she exited the kitchen, grinning when he grumbled at her for it. “I’m off to my lab, you boys try to listen for the doorbell or Vegeta won’t get breakfast.”

She exited the room with a jaunty wave. Vegeta automatically scanned for ki, finding none nearby. Bulma headed away, her parents on some kind of boat trip, and Trunks still in bed. 

“So,” Kakarot had crossed the room, insinuated himself into Vegeta’s space, leaning casually against the counter so close their shoulders brushed, “sparring after breakfast?”

“Mmm.” Vegeta was never going to tell him, but Kakarot’s recent habit of phrasing things explicitly so that Vegeta could easily have final say was nice. He tried not to think too hard about how Kakarot had only started that after their fusion experience. 

Whatever Kakarot had seen in Vegeta’s memories, it didn’t seem to have soured his opinion of Vegeta any. Vegeta still couldn’t wrap his head around it, that Kakarot had seen so much of him but still pushed closer. 

“Hey,” Kakarot abandoned his rest on the counter to circle in front of Vegeta, practically press flush against him. Tucked his head down, leaning in. Vegeta turned and lifted his head in response, meeting Kakarot halfway for a brief kiss. 

“Coffee,” Kakarot grumbled. He didn’t like the taste of it much. Vegeta snorted, grabbed Kakarot’s gi to pull him in for a deeper kiss. 

“Mmm.” Seemed Kakarot was willing to overlook the flavor of coffee for proper kissing. He barely moved away from Vegeta when they broke the kiss, leaned in to press his lips to Vegeta’s jaw. Vegeta shivered. Kakarot was nothing if not attentive. 

Why hadn’t they done this sooner?

A chime, the doorbell. They both jumped, then Vegeta slipped away from Kakarot’s weight to get his breakfast.

“You’re late today.” Kakarot was watching him intently, hungry. Vegeta would need to make sure he grabbed supplies, before they headed for sparring. Lubricant opened so many more enjoyable positions. 

“You’re just early.” Vegeta deposited his food on the table, tore into it. Watched out of the corner of his eye as Kakarot sidled closer, exercising an impressive amount of self-restraint to keep from reaching for Vegeta’s meal. 

“I guess maybe.” Kakarot shrugged. “I never look at the clock.” 

Such an easy life. Vegeta rolled his eyes. Kakarot wouldn’t have lasted even a day, in the PTO’s suffocating structure. 

It was nice that he hadn’t had to. A bizarre thought, relief on someone else’s behalf. 

Kakarot’s grandfather hadn’t owned a clock, Vegeta realized with the weird distant feeling of remembering another person’s memory. The first one Kakarot had seen had been in Bulma’s capsule home. 

Warmth against his back. Kakarot leaned over his shoulder, eyeing the breakfast sandwich Vegeta was eating. Licked his lips. “That looks really good.”

Relenting, Vegeta handed him one from the box, still wrapped. Bulma had ordered extras after all.

Kakarot happily tucked into the sandwich, and Vegeta tried not to feel quite so fond. 

Months now, that they’d been whatever they were. Still it felt like water after days parched on a desert planet. 

“Are you nearly done?” Kakarot’s gaze on him, intent. Waiting for Vegeta to finish eating so they could finally spar, and fuck. Not necessarily in that order. 

“Patience, Kakarot,” Vegeta told him, starting on another sandwich, “you’ll just have to wait.”

Kakarot slipped an arm around Vegeta, tucked his head against Vegeta’s. Distracting, while Vegeta was trying to eat, but he didn’t want to push him off either. He’d drink in that easy warmth at every discrete opportunity, now that he finally had it. 

“Okay, Vegeta. I made you wait, after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on tumblr. Come say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vakaara


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